


Void Dweller

by misdanbe



Category: Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2018-08-26
Updated: 2018-09-17
Packaged: 2019-07-02 15:05:40
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 41
Words: 44,949
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/15799011
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/misdanbe/pseuds/misdanbe
Summary: The Adventures of Gwendolyn and Friends, in which Gwendolyn decides she likes her friend more than she likes obeying the laws of the universe.





	1. Meeting

The Falkreath sanctuary had sounds of life echoing throughout the chambers, but Gwen’s only focus was her own wringing hands. The hustle and bustle was usually soothing to her, but after the recent few events, her mind was running absolutely wild. What...had just happened? What does this mean? By the gods, what’s going to happen to her?  
Astrid suddenly appeared, flashing a brief smile and patting her shoulder. Her leather glove briefly pressed into Gwendolyn’s dark robes, leaving a handprint of ash on the red. Her lips were pressed together in a motion that looked less than pleased, but Gwendolyn was too far into her thoughts to notice either.  
“Congratulations. You are now Listener.”  
A confused look passed Gwendolyn’s face and she opened her mouth, but Astrid held up a hand.  
“I know you have questions. They will all be answered. For now, you’ve gained a new power.” She raised her eyebrows expectantly after a moment, voice changing with humor. “Well? Are you going to ask?”  
She laughed nervously. “Uh, what is my new power?” So much was happening so fast.  
“Glad you asked. You can summon an assassin to follow you on your adventures. His name is Lucien Lachance. He was one of us a long time ago.” She drew out ‘long’ for emphasis. “He will now be with you wherever you go. If you choose to summon him of course.”  
Gwendolyn smiled a little bit, trying in vain not to pull at the edge of her sleeve. Okay, well that’s cool. Maybe we can be friends. Maybe this won’t be awful.  
“But be warned. If he dies, you have to wait a day before summoning him again.” Astrid’s smile fell. “But he can always come back the next day. Don’t worry too much.”  
Gwendolyn nodded in affirmation, and started down into the dining hall. She got to the doorway before Astrid called her again.  
“Just so you know, he tends to be a talker.” The older woman offered a playful smile. Gwendolyn laughed and nodded again, going down the stairs.

She sat down at the table, slightly fidgety.  
Her thoughts took her over. _I’ll admit, I’m a little nervous. What if I don’t like him? What if he doesn’t like me? Oh no, how’re we going to work together if we don’t like each other?_ She looked over at Nazir and Babette. The worry must have been in her eyes, because Nazir gave her a reassuring nod.  
“Whatever troubles you, Listener, you’ll make it through.”  
“Thank you, Nazir.”  
“And if you get in a fight, we’ll kill it for you.” Babette laughed. “At least I will.”  
Nazir glared. “Are you implying I wouldn’t?”  
“Sisters before misters, Nazir~.” She winked.  
“What? That’s not what that-?” He dragged his hand across his face, suddenly turning to Gwen. “Listener, do what you need to do. We’ll be here.”  
She chuckled. “I appreciate you both. Thank you.”  
Pushing her fears aside, she rose her hands and focused on the other side of the table. She watched as her magic slowly condensed in one spot, and grew larger and larger. She’d never seen anything like it before, and for a moment she’d forgotten that it was her doing.The other two looked on in curiosity. Suddenly, a portal opened up, and out stepped a blue ghost, glowing like a lantern and dressed in the same robes as her. His head turned to her as he emerged, and he hesitated a moment, like he meant to say something then had forgotten.  
(Nazir looked at the momentarily quiet ghost, then back at Babette. He raised his eyebrow in a smirk, and Babette stifled a laugh.)  
The ghost cleared his throat and looked up again. “Hello Listener.”  
Gwen desperately tried to keep her neutral expression. _His voice is...He can talk as long as he wants. Gwendolyn, you absolute child, focus! You’re not going to embarrass yourself just because of an attra-FOCUS! He’s a ghost. He’s a literal ghost. He’s only here to help you. He’s a GHOST. I’m not even sure if he’s capable of liking other people. Can he? Does he have feelings? Never mind!_  
“Hello, seems like we’re partners now.” She stood from the table and held out her hand for him to shake.  
He smiled brightly and shook her hand. “So it seems.”


	2. Call for Help

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood, injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I often listen to music while writing, and I think if you listen to it while reading you'll feel the same ~mood~. :) For this chapter, it was Habits, by Post-Modern Jukebox. Enjoy!

3 months later

The room was dimly lit and warm, inviting if she didn’t feel so alone. The only lights were the fireplace, and the dying candle on the end side table. The candle was not going to last to the end of the night, and the fireplace was across the room. This...sucked.  
Gwendolyn felt the silence like a weight, and wished she could leave the house and go somewhere, but her leg was cut to the bone. One well-placed dagger and the dovahkiin was downed and out of order. She had tried to use a restoration spell, but her magicka only healed the wound enough to cover it with one layer of skin that just ripped back open if the leg moved. She mentally put ‘practice restoration’ on her to-do list.  
She sat on the floor, blood dried in a pool under her leg, so dark it was barely red. It twisted and winded around the curves of the rock floor, spreading out like veins. She chuckled at the irony.  
The bed next to her was too high up to pull herself onto, not to mention the pain, so she took the fur from it and tried to warm herself up. This part of the house tended to get cold at night, so of course she had to crawl here instead of anywhere else.  
The kids wouldn’t be up for another three hours or so, and Lydia was out in Solitude getting her armor fixed by the blacksmith. She could tell one of the kids to go out to Falkreath and ask for help, but she would have to wait until morning. Sending a child into the forest is scary enough, but at night is a risk not worth taking.   
So she was alone until morning. Alone in her own house, covered in blood and cold. Legendary dovahkiin, huddled in the corner.   
Lydia is out, the kids are asleep, Cicero was with the Night Mother, who else could she summon for help? Or if anything, company?  
Her eyes widened. Summon.  
She sat up straight, wincing when her leg shifted, and put her hands out. Purple light started to emit from her palms, curling around her fingers. She shut her eyes in focus, and whispered into the silence.  
“Lucien. Come to me.”   
Opening her eyes, a portal emerged in front of her. Out stepped a familiar face, casting blue light all over the dark room. (She hadn’t realized how dark it actually was until it wasn’t anymore.) He took in his surroundings, saw Gwendolyn on the floor and smiled in greeting. After seeing and recognizing the blood surrounding her was not from a foe, his smile dropped and he quickly kneeled next to her on the floor. Gwendolyn smiled weakly at him, watching his glowing eyes search for a wound. Once he found the source, his hand hovered over the cut before looking back up at her.  
“My Listener, what happened to you?” His voice hummed deep in her ribcage.  
“Nothing too bad, just a bandit with a sharp blade.”  
His eyes narrowed. “I will find them and bring you the dagger.”  
He got up to go but her hand caught the side of his sleeve. He looked down again, confused.  
“Lucien, I didn’t summon you to avenge me. I summoned you to keep me company. I’ll live.”  
“Oh,” He relaxed, “If you insist.”  
She laughed quietly. He was a great listener, despite listener being her title, and she often summoned him for story-telling. Luckily Lucien still seemed to enjoy her stories, or at least not hate them, which she appreciated. Either that or he just never mentioned his irritation, which she appreciated either way.  
He sat down on the floor in front of her, waiting patiently.  
“Okay Lucien, are you ready to be my listener?” She chuckled painfully.  
“Of course.” He gave a small sideways smile.  
She hesitated a moment, watching him. In battle he was a fierce opponent, and she was happy to have him on her side, but right now he looked like a little kid. His smile dropped when she hesitated for too long.  
“Are you sure you’re alright, Listener?”  
She shook her head. “Yeah, I’m okay. Probably blood loss. Or the cold. Makes me function a little slower.” That’s a blatant lie.  
His brow furrowed and the corners of his mouth turned down. “I should get help.” His frown deepened. “Or kill a bandit.”  
“Lucien, if you try to get up again, I will not summon you for another week.”  
“I will stay here.”  
She grinned bigger this time. So he does actually want to be here.  
“Okay. Storytime.”


	3. Home

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: injuries

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Runa is BRAVE. That's all I'll say.

Runa shifted, groaning underneath the gentle push.  
“Nooo mooom 5 more mi..” She dozed off again.  
Lucien lightly nudged her one more time.  
“Runa, your mother needs your assistance.”  
She squinted her eyes at the glowing man. The windows brought blinding sunlight into the large room. She shut her eyes again.  
“Oh, hello Lucien. I thought I heard the portal open.”  
He smiled. “I’m certain you were supposed to be asleep at that hour.”  
Runa propped herself on her elbows and playfully glared.  
“And I’m certain you’re not supposed to have a crush on your boss.” An evil grin spread across her face.  
Lucien’s smile dropped. I thought I was careful.  
“Do you accuse your mother of things when she wakes you up as well?”  
She rolled her eyes and left the bed, still grinning. _No denial. He basically just admitted it. Wait until I tell Minette._  
“I was gonna help anyways. Gosh Lucien, she’s my mom.”  
Runa moved to the next bed over, and nudged the lump under the blankets.  
“Knud. Knud. Go get the alcohol and bring it upstairs. Mom got cut again.”  
Her brother groaned, but got up and headed for the kitchen. Runa turned back to the ghost.  
“So what do you need?”  
Lucien hummed. “I need you to go to Falkreath an-“  
She interrupted him. “Buy a potion? Oh please.” Walking over to a chest, she opened it, showing hundreds of red bottles. “She always asks us to buy some because she forgets that we did from the LAST time around. Can you ask her what strength potion she needs?” Runa started shuffling the bottles around, the clinking waking up the rest of her siblings. Lucien stared at the contents of the chest, in a daze. _How many times has this happened?_ “Hey, Lucien? You gonna ask?” He flinched, curtly nodded, and turned on his heel, heading up the stairs.

He quietly entered the room, smelling the copper of the blood almost immediately. He frowned. “Listener..? Are you awake?”  
Gwendolyn’s head pushed up out of the fur covers on the bed. From her face, he could tell he’d woke her. “Lucien? Is that you?” Her voice sounded strained.  
He moved and sat on the side of the bed. At this, Gwendolyn put her head back under the cover and groaned. “Luuuciiien you’re all glowy.”  
He laughed. “Yes, as most ghost nurses are. Sorry to wake you, but your mischievous daughter wants to know what strength potion you need?”  
“Oh, so you’re my nurse now?”  
His head swiveled around the room suspiciously,“Is there any other ghosts in here?”  
“If there was, would you be jealous?” She grinned.  
He smiled evilly, unsheathing his knife and twirling it in his hand, “Not for long.”  
She fully laughed this time, pushing herself out of the covers to examine her leg. Moving it was impossible, and she could definitely see bone. Ugly. “The strongest one we’ve got.”  
Lucien nodded and went out to go tell Runa.  
“Lucien, wait.”  
He stopped in the doorway. “Yes?”  
“How did I get on the bed? I couldn’t move.”  
He laughed like the answer was obvious. “I moved you, of course. Please Listener, what good of a nurse would I be if I left you on the floor?” He moved back out the door.  
When he shut the door, she laid back flat in the bed. _He’s a ghost. He’s a ghost. Stop that._

*Meanwhile, outside the door*  
“Mama and Lucien sittin in a tree, K-I-“  
**_“Silence.”_**


	4. Omen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> *Disclaimer* I hate editing.
> 
> Also tw: Mentions of battle, blood, injuries, and death.
> 
> Song for this one is Crown, by Camila Cabello!
> 
> And an actual summary, Gwen is not about to have a great time.

Fear dripped into her lungs like poison, straining her every breath, but she could not think about that now. Terror whipped through her heart like a loose animal, pounding rhythmically against its own bone cage. Cold air and the smell of death flew past her face as she rode towards her beloved Sanctuary. She could not think about anything.  
Astrid, lethal betrayer, had pulled a cloth over her eyes, and she feared that the ugly truth would be past the blindfold. Her hands dug deep into Shadowmere’s reigns, the horse’s feet pounding like the animal in her chest. The closer they inched to Falkreath, the more fear settled into her fingertips. She clenched her fists harder, banishing the pain and never blinking. Lucien, behind her, released one arm to guide her eyes to the unfamiliar pillar in the distance.  
His voice was...dark.  
“ Smoke.”  
She raised her eyes to the pillar again, watching its stature rise into the night sky. The poison in her lungs drowned her from the inside. 

“Sithis have mercy...May we not lose all we love tonight.”

As Shadowmere neared the doors, both assassins leapt off the horse, starting towards the invasion. Gwendolyn skid to a stop to see the first of many, Festus pinned by countless arrows to a tree.  
“It’s a slaughter. Even if I survive, I will die.” Gwendolyn cried, looking fearfully towards the doors. She shook her head, narrowing her eyes at the door. “But not before they do.”

They sprinted into the burning sanctuary.

-

Penitus Oculatus soldiers filled every hall, covered in blood of their foe.   
Bodies scattered the floor, each impossible to save. The soldiers and their torches set fire to banners and bodies alike. They truly intended to leave nothing behind, didn't they?  
Gwendolyn sprinted to each body, finding no heartbeat. She dodged their blades to make it to her family members, cutting everything too close and earning her fair share of cuts along the way. Both fought off every soldier fiercely, trying not to focus on the sickening sound of the walls began caving in.   
Gwendolyn, plunging her dagger into a soldier’s heart with the fury of her own grief, didn't notice when another one rose up behind her, but Lucien did. Tackling the unseen attacker, he shoved his blade underneath the armor into his opponent’s stomach, but his attention was again drawn elsewhere.   
A wooden beam cracked and fell into the center of the room, separating them and filling it with more smoke. Lucien got off the soldier, turning to Gwendolyn and opening his mouth to shout, but another crash overshadowed him. Her eyes searched for him through the thick black fumes, but she found nothing. The tackled soldier rose up again to stab him in the back, just in time to see Gwendolyn cornered by a rising flame. They surrounded her like a morbid audience.

He fell back into the void.

-in the void-  
No! No No No NO! She can’t die there. She can’t die. She has her whole life before joining me here. What if she dies there, alone? How will I know? Am I doomed to wait for her to summon me for eternity? Will she come to the void, coughing up the ashes of her own sanctuary? Will she die knowing I was the reason her life was cut short? Because I couldn’t save her? She’ll hate me. If I ever see her again. My job was to protect the Listener, and yet I’ve let her die in her own home. She was right to pray for mercy. I only hope she grants me it as well.


	5. Survivor

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This chapter's song is Survivor, by 2WEI.
> 
> Summary: She's not immortal, but she IS very hard to kill. She's also not easily pissed off. Nice going, Lucien.

Gwendolyn clawed and scraped her way out of the rubble. She just focused on digging her nails into the ground, and pulling with whatever energy was given to her, because it was surely not her own. The debris gave way to the clearing, and slowly but surely, the sun touched her again. The lingering smoke finally gave way to clean air, and between her wails of pain and grief, Gwen could breathe again.  
The dawn sun shined on her, bringing a glowing edge to the trees and hills. The glow looked as if the forest was on fire, and she spat angrily at the false flames. Once fully escaping the cracked stone and burnt beams, she flipped onto her back, splayed out in the grass, focusing only on one breath after another. Her hands, face, and clothes were all covered in soot, like an ink. She watched the sun move its way over the horizon, doing nothing but surviving in the morning light.   
Her face was marked with tear tracks, bright lines pushing through the black ink. They fell heavily, following the marked path. Gwendolyn gripped the grass in her hands, finally just sobbing for the loss of her family. She was alone, yet again. She didn’t know how long she was out, but she hoped to Sithis it was more than 24 hours.   
_He’s the only one I have left. Please. Please, don’t take everything from me._ With a soot stained hand, she shakily pulled purple light from the void.   
It was...silent. She’d hoped for too much. Her hand dropped back to the ground in defeat.

Then the portal opened.

Her breath caught in her throat, and she hurriedly pushed herself up,ignoring the pain and looking for the source. Scanning wildly, the portal opened in front of her, and before she could even stand, he launched out of the portal, calling for her. As soon as he spotted her, she had already pushed herself onto her feet. Her voice was barely audible, but she was whispering a million thank yous to Sithis.  
“You’re alive...After a day had passed I was sure you’d….All I saw was you in the flames...I thought….” He breathed out. “Never do that to me again.”  
“I thought I was never going to see _you_ again.” She cried out. “I thought I’d lost everything I cared about.”  
He gave a smile. “You care about me?”   
Her relieved expression dropped into anger, while he fully realized the tracks running down her cheeks were new.  
“Are you stupid, Lucien?”  
“...What?”  
“You heard me. Are you stupid?” She was glaring, and he couldn’t tell what he’d done. Whatever it was, he was in the line of fire.  
She marched towards him, pointing an accusing finger to his jaw.  
“Of course I care about you, you stupid _IDIOT!_ Or else I wouldn’t be CRYING! You are the last one of this family I have LEFT! I don’t even know if you can HAVE feelings and STILL losing you would be the WORST thing to happen to me!” She was crying violently, wiping the soot and saltwater on her burnt robes, smearing the black around her eyes. She finally collapsed to her knees from the pain, and began ripping out grass by the handful in fury.  
He sighed. “Listener.”  
“I’m...I’m sorry Lucien, I shouldn’t have-That was unreasonable I shouldn’t have-”  
“Listener.”  
She didn’t look up. He kneeled next to her.  
“It’s okay. You’re alright. I’m not mad at you.”

She fell back into him, holding on to his sleeve and squeezing her eyes shut. He rested his chin on her head, still looking at the sanctuary’s rubble. That door was not coming back.  
“I’m...I’m sorry I screamed at you.”  
“It’s alright, Listener. You can scream about how much you care about me as much as you want.”  
She smacked his arm and laughed.  
“Also, Listener?”  
“Hmm?”  
“You couldn’t get rid of me if you tried.”


	6. Bonded

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: I Believe In Love, by Lily Collins (Yes, it's from Mirror Mirror, leave me alone)
> 
> tw: alcohol, murder, blood
> 
> Summary: Gwendolyn is a dork and everyone around her just goes along with it, Runa's middle name is brave, and Lucien does not know what "No combat" means.

She tapped her foot impatiently on the side of the rock, watching the sun move across the sky. Only a little longer. A few minutes felt like eternity was dragging its feet, and she was not going to be patient today. She fidgeted with her hair, swung her legs, played a rhythm on her knees, and anything else to keep anything but still. She watched her shadow lengthen and waited until she knew it was time. Once the sun had moved far enough, Gwendolyn leapt to her feet, hands out and ready. Before both feet hit the ground she had purple light twirling around her fingers, and her smile only grew wider. She squeezed her eyes shut.  
“Luuuucien. Come to me.”  
The portal opened and he stepped out, startled by her rapid footsteps. She was smiling brightly and wrapped around his middle before the portal even shut. He laughed and looked down at her.  
“Hello Listener, what do I have to thank this mood for?”  
“Today is a town day, Lucien! We are doing no work! If I see a bandit, for once the guards can do something about it! I summoned you so you could have fun with us. _No combat._ ” She grinned again. Before he could fit in another sentence she was off down the road towards her manor, already waving for him to catch up.  
She burst into her own front door, revealing all the bustling bodies inside. The kids moved around, packing up toys and treats and books into their bags to take on the day trip. They shouted across rooms to each other, tossing dolls and daggers to their siblings.  
“Kids, are you packed? Francois, _hand_ the dagger to your sister, thank you.” Gwendolyn called into the dining room. A chorus of “yes, Ma!” or some other variation erupted from the house. She turned over her shoulder and smiled at him.  
“Alright, everyone out! Let’s go!”  
\--  
Gwendolyn took a seat next to the old woman in the corner. The tavern was busy, filled with chatting people, a cheerful bard, a few dancers, and her kids. Her favorite type of crowd.  
“Hello Olva! Long time no see!”  
The woman smiled up from her drink,” Now here’s a girl I like to see! How are you, my dear?”  
“Not too bad, not too bad. Just happy to have a day to spend here instead of in another cave. Gods, I hate caves.”  
“I bet! Have a drink on me!” The cheerful woman waved over the bartender.  
“No no, Olva. I’m good. I have to stay sober to make sure my kids make it home tonight. They’re well-behaved, but they’re still 11.”  
“Fair enough." She waved off the bartender. "It looks like your new friend has got them under control. Who’s he?”  
“Oh, that’s Lucien.”  
She watched him from across the tavern, obediently sitting in front of two of her girls. His hood was down, and Sofie was giggling, winding his ponytail into a braid. Minette sprinted in and out, plopping more and more wildflowers on the table to stick in his hair. He only patiently smiled, content to let them do as they pleased. He noticed her staring and waved, turning his attention back to the book in his lap. She waved back, and he turned back to the kids. Before she realized, she was leaning on her hand, grinning like a fool in complete view of the old woman. The old woman smirked knowingly.  
“Sooo.”  
“Oh yes, sorry. I might’ve zoned out a bit. What were we saying?” Gwendolyn looked embarrassed. She knew from the old woman’s look she had seen the fool’s grin and the blush already. She only hoped she wouldn’t mention it.  
“He’s cute.”  
Too much to hope for.  
“I-uh-I don’t-”  
The old woman laughed heartily. “No need to explain yourself, girl. I know a lovestruck child when I see one.”  
Gwendolyn’s face was certainly red now. “I’m NOT-”  
“You see the thing is, I see two.”  
“What?”  
“Don’t tell me you’re _that_ oblivious.”  
“Olva, I don’t know what you’re talking about.  
“Come ooon girl, I thought you were smarter than this. He most definitely likes you.”  
“We are _just_ friends!”  
“Yeah, if you do nothing!~” Olva chuckled in her singsong voice. “I know your back is to him, but mine isn’t, and if I’ve counted right, he’s looked over at you 4 times now. Only stalkers or people in love do that, and he’s not a very good stalker if you know he’s there.”  
Gwendolyn looked down at her hands, trying to keep her composure. “ _Not_ that I think you’re right, but what do you suggest I do? In case you’ve recently forgotten or gone blind, he’s a ghost.”  
Olva put her head on her chin. “Hmm. Is there a way to fix that?”  
She looked at the old woman incredulously. “Fix him...and by that you mean...making him...not a ghost?”  
Olva shrugged. “If it works, it works.”  
Gwendolyn shook her head in disbelief. “Okay, I know there was something wrong with you, please quell your matchmaking long enough for me to talk to my son.” She turned over to Knud, who was running up to her.  
“Ma! Ma! I have a secret question!”  
Gwendolyn leaned in towards him. “Who is it a secret from?”  
He whispered, giggling. “Lucien! You can’t tell him.”  
“Okay, I think I can do that,” She flicked her eyes over to Lucien’s sitting form, still occupied by the girls and their handiwork, “What’s your question?”  
“What is Lucien’s favorite food?” He waited patiently for an answer.  
“Oo, tough question. I’m pretty sure it’s...apples.” She smiled.  
“Thank you Ma!” He hugged her neck and ran away to his other siblings, gathered in a circle.  
Olva raised an eyebrow. “Can he...eat?”  
“I have NO idea.”  
She noticed both of the braiding girls had left Lucien and were in the circle, whispering and giggling. Lucien had noticed also, and was watching the circle suspiciously before looking at her, tilting his head. She shrugged back. She had no idea what they were doing. They dispersed, and tried very hard to look casual. Lucien gave up trying to investigate, and went back to the book in his lap.  
Olva piped up. “Your kids like him too, so it seems?”  
“Oh, very much. He’s their favorite.”  
“So he’s good with kids, too, huh?” She smiled mischievously.  
“Ooh, back to the matchmaking are we?” Both women laughed. Meanwhile, the kids, trying not to get Lucien’s attention, found every apple they could and set it on the table behind him. He didn’t notice them passing him at all, too immersed in his book even as the pile grew.  
Olva shrugged again. “I’m just saying, if anyone could bring him back to life, figuratively or literally, it would be you.”  
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. “I do not even know where to start with that. Anyways, Olva, the bard is beginning my favorite, so if you’ll excuse me again.” As if on cue, her son pulled his mother to the center of the bustling room. All 6 kids were gathered in a dancing circle, faces bright and eyes brighter. Them and their mother happily twirled and sung along to the tune, in sync like they’d done it a million times before. Their joy filled the room, contagious to every bystander. Some joined the group, dancing off to the side, and some simply clapped along, grinning.  
Lucien watched her spin and clap with her kids, grinning like a child herself. He leaned his head onto his hand, stupid smile on his face. If anyone was close enough, they could see his face was a darker blue than usual.  
Olva watched the ghost, and snickered.  
“Wonder where I’ve seen THAT look before.” She muttered to herself.  
Lucien idly watched the patrons of the bar come in and out. One, an old man smelling of too much alcohol, caught his suspicions immediately. The man sat down, oblivious to Lucien’s piercing gaze. He didn’t know what, but something about this man gave off the aura of impending mistakes. As soon as the old man opened his mouth, his suspicions were confirmed.  
“Dance, pretty lady!” He shouted into the crowd of people.  
Lucien flinched, realizing he was directing that at Gwendolyn. He looked over to her. Gwendolyn gave him a small glance, and faintly shook her head. His comments mean nothing. _Do_ nothing.  
“You wench!” The old man shouted again. This time, Lucien suddenly stood from the table. Gwendolyn just continued dancing, but gave no glance. Whether or not she was ignoring him or ignoring the offender or just hadn’t heard, he didn’t know. To him it didn’t matter. She didn’t say no.  
“As far as I’m concerned, that’s permission.” He seethed.  
He moved, invisible to the old man, until he was behind him. Unsheathing his dagger, he pressed the metal against the old man’s throat. He leaned close to the man’s ear, growling.  
“Say nothing, and your death will not be as agonizing.”  
The old man, breath caught in his throat, held up his hands.  
“Move.”  
He shakily stood from the table, and moved out of the tavern. Lucien noticed Olva watching him usher out the man, but she made a show of not noticing. He nodded in agreement, and shut the door.

After exiting the still-dancing circle, Gwendolyn watched Lucien calmly sit back down at his table and tower of apples. He was smiling, but it was not a content or happy one. She knew that smile too well. Her eyes flicked over to the old man’s chair, empty. When she looked back to Lucien, he met her eyes, and held up his hands in a gesture of innocence. His smile grew when she rolled her eyes. He was quite literally red-handed, blood dripping on the table.  
“Lucien, where is he?”  
He chuckled. “Who?”

\--

When the band of travelers hit the road after dusk, the children followed their mother like ducklings. Lucien, walked in the back, making sure all 6 kids stayed with them. Runa slowed her pace to walk next to him.

“I have a question!” She piped up.  
“Yes?” Lucien hummed.  
“How can Mom summon you?”  
“We are linked.”  
“What does that mean?”  
“We are bonded, your mother and I. Through the powers of the void.”  
Runa hesitated a moment, before turning to him again.

“So you're like, void married?”


	7. Rescue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood, cuts, injuries, fighting
> 
> Summary: Don't put all your eggs in one basket.

Lydia lit another torch, swinging the flaming stick around the room. 2 other housecarls came out of the stone doorways, exasperated. The room was hot and humid, confining and dark. No one was happy.

“I told her she shouldn’t have gone ahead and shut that door.” Gregor, one of the housecarls, frowned.  
Lydia groaned. “Like we could’ve stopped her. She went in there,” she swung the torch near the largest doorway, “shouted, and then we opened the door, and she was gone. It was less than 2 minutes. How far could she have gone?”  
“There were so many draugr, and then….nothing. Not even remains! I don’t understand.” Gregor muttered. “We’ve been looking for who knows how long now. This ruin can’t be that big. Where could she be?”  
Lydia rolled her eyes. “Pretty far now. We’ve been looking for HOURS. I don’t know what to do.”  
Valdimar, the other housecarl, held a finger up to his lips. “Shhh. Hush you whiny children, do you hear that?”

All of them stood silently.

From within the big room, it sounded like magic was gathering. Dark purple mist appeared; wisps becoming fog as it grew thicker. It seemed like it was purposefully taking its time.  
Valdimar’s face had gone white.  
“What...what is that?”  
None of them answered. They were too focused on the foreign and sinister mist.  
The fog collected until it was dense enough and big enough to envelop one of them. Its color was barely purple now. Suddenly, a loud, jarring noise echoed through the room and the housecarls jumped, startled.  
The center fog lightened and when it clicked in Lydia’s head what it was, she groaned loudly. The other two looked at her quizzically.  
The portal opened, and Lucien stepped out, surveying his surroundings.  
Lydia glared. “Lachance.”  
He looked over into the doorway. “Where’s the Listener? Why are you guys not with her?”  
Gregor awkwardly raised his hand. “We were about to ask you the same thing.”  
Lucien raised an eyebrow. “She summoned me without being here? Why? How did she-? Never mind. Where is she?”  
Lydia had her arms crossed, upset over being ignored. “We’ve been looking for her for forever. She probably sent you to lead us to her.”  
He chuckled. “So you lost her? How do you do that?”  
“Look, can you help us find her or not?”  
“Haven’t tried in a while, but I think I can.” He shut his eyes, in deep concentration. “She’s,” He turned around, trying to center on her, “this way.” He led them down a hallway in the large room.  
Valdimar looked fidgety. “Excuse me for asking but, who are you?”  
Lucien turned and held out his hand. “Lucien Lachance.” he slyly grinned. “Former Speaker of the Dark Brotherhood. Nice to meet you.”  
“Gwendolyn’s favorite.” Lydia growled.  
Valdimar tilted his head. “Oh uh, good to know.”  
—  
The further Lucien walked, the more he wondered how she could’ve summoned him. She was nowhere close, and she wasn’t moving. The faint beating in his ears pulsated from the glow of her life, and calmed him slightly, but the glow wasn’t moving. It concerned him, but he could still sense her, so she had to be alive. The voice in his head asked him for how long. He kept leading the housecarls, quickening his pace. Nearing her, he noticed he was leading up to another large room. He stopped. 

Everyone stopped talking.

“Hey what’s the-“  
“SHH, do you hear the chanting?” He whispered.

They went silent again.

“Namira worshippers.” Valdimar casually answered. “I’ve heard that chant before. They’re in caves a lot. Creepy, ain’t it?”  
Lucien’s eyes widened, and he fearfully sprinted towards the large room. The housecarls quickly hurried to catch up.  
Valdimar whispered to Gregor, panting, “Which Prince is Namira again?”  
Gregor looked at him incredulously. “God of Decay. Cannibalism, Valdimar.”  
“Oh.”  
“OH.”  
—  
Her eyes were heavy, blinking through blood and tears. Cuts and lacerations pulsed everywhere, but her stomach hurt the most. They had taken their knife and run it across her, drawing blood for the ritual. She knew what was next.  
The chanting was so loud, and she was so tired. All she wanted was for the chanting to stop. Summoning Lucien back in the throne room took so much, but she couldn’t let herself fall asleep. Sleep meant death. Her thoughts taunted her in her fight against sleeping. _If I didn’t drag him into this, I could’ve fought my way out._  
Her fingertips suddenly felt warm, like someone was pouring liquid on her hands. She held them up, looking through blurry eyes. Blood. It was draining from her cuts and onto the table. Who was she kidding? She couldn’t have fought through this. She only hoped he got here soon enough…  
The chanting stopped when the stone doors slammed open. She held her head up, making out a blue figure, followed by 3 grey steel ones. She let her head drop back down in relief. 

Lucien’s voice was laced with venom.  
_“Kill them.”_  
The room quickly collapsed into chaos. Lucien dodged knife throws to make a beeline straight for Gwendolyn. The housecarls scattered, shoving their greatswords down the throats of the worshippers. Both sides screamed in anger and fury. The cultists threw poisons, they threw daggers, they threw blood. They threw anything they could grab. Swords clashed and bottles broke. Yelling and shouting drowned the room.  
Gwendolyn looked up towards the ceiling, feeling the blood drain out of her. She felt eerily unaffected, and the lack of emotion scared her. Quick and light footsteps came towards her, almost overshadowed by the fighting, and Lucien’s blue face appeared over her.  
“You made it…” she mumbled.  
“Everytime you summon me, you’re bleeding. You have to stop that.” His voice sounded like he was forcing panic underneath his breath.  
“I’m sorry I...shouldn’t have...put my eggs in one…….basket.”  
“I am a reliable basket.” He anxiously laughed, dragging linen wraps from one of the old shelves and held it onto her stomach. It soaked through immediately, so he dragged more over. He pressed it down to add pressure, but he pushed too hard, and his hand went through her stomach. It ghosted through her and hit the table, and he felt the frustration rise.  
“Sometimes I wish I wasn’t a ghost.” He grumbled to Gwendolyn. Her eyes fluttered shut, and her breathing slowed.  
“Listener?”  
She didn’t answer. He put his fingers to her neck, but remembered he couldn’t feel anything if it was there at all. He instead cradled her head and focused on her chest rising and falling.  
“YOU!” He shouted.  
Gregor finished off his cultist and turned towards him.  
“GET HER! I'LL LEAD!”  
Gregor quickly came over, and gently removed Gwendolyn from the table. The giant man held her like she was a fragile doll. Taking more wraps and putting them on her, Lucien pointed to her stomach.  
“Pressure, there.”  
He obediently moved his hand over and pressed the wraps down.  
Lucien led him to the door. The other two housecarls easily finished off the cultists without them, but Lucien did not bother to turn and look. He removed his dagger from his sheath and fled with the Goliath through the cave.  
—  
Lucien slid through the rocks, out into the sunlight. Gregor close behind, waited for orders from the ghost man.  
“Set her down here.” He commanded, pointing to a piece of grass a little ways away from the opening. Once the man had set her down, Lucien kneeled next to her again, checking her breathing. Barely.  
He had to think quickly.  
“Gregor, do any of you carry health potions?”  
“Uuh, no. Usually little lady is the one doing the healing.” He gestured to the unconscious woman.  
“Do any of you know restoration magic?”  
“Nope.”  
_Okay, I’ll fix this. You won't die here, Listener. Who DOES know magic?_  
“Look down at the road. Do you see anyone?”  
Gregor looked down the hill. “Uuh, there’s a few people.”  
Lucien focused on mopping up the blood with the wraps. “What are they wearing?” _Please don’t be bandits. I need someone who can get help._  
“They’re all wearing the same thing. Something...orange?”

Lucien looked up. “What?”

“They’re hard to make out, but they’re wearing something long and orange.”  
“Gregor, priests?”

Gregor squinted, then opened his mouth in shock. “Priests! How lucky are we?! I’ll go get them!”  
Lucien didn’t look up. “Go.”  
The giant man stomped down the hill quickly to go retrieve them.  
He quickly moved back to Gwendolyn. “The company you keep.”  
He kept himself busy fixing her wounds, sweeping the dried blood off the smaller cuts and moving her hair and blood out of her eyes.  
For a moment, the silence was nice.

“MR. LACHANCE! I BROUGHT THE PRIESTS!”

Moment over.

Gregor came over the hill, red in the face with the priest slung over his shoulder.  
“Put them down!”  
He quickly put them down and backed up. The priest, slightly irritated, smoothed out their robes. They were obviously removed forcefully.  
“What could possibly be so important you needed to KIDNAP me?”  
He waved off the kidnapping. “I recognize your amulet. Arkay?”  
“Yes? And?”  
Lucien moved the wraps. “Namira cultists.”  
The priest’s eyes widened. “Move aside.”

They kneeled on the opposite side of her, twirling golden light around their fingertips, before closing their eyes and concentrating. The light quickly extended over, and the smallest cuts quickly shut. More focus, and everything except the largest cut disappeared. The priest squeezed their eyes, fingers shaking, until the stomach cut closed off almost completely. All that was left was the ripped fabric of her armor and a faint outline of where her biggest cut had been. Their hands dropped in exhaustion.  
“I’ve done my best, I hope she fares well. She WILL have a scar.”  
“Another story to tell.” Gwendolyn croaked out.  
Both Lucien and Gregor jumped. A mixture of “Listener!” And “My thane!” greeted her soon after. Lucien leaned over her, relieved, smoothing her hair over again. “I _thought_ I said to stop doing that to me.”  
Gwendolyn laughed, tilting her head towards the blue figure.  
The priest raised an eyebrow at them, and grabbed her hand. “You are in good hands, m’lady.”  
Gwen chuckled again. “He did say he was a reliable basket.”  
—  
“Does Runa know you carry NO health potions?”  
“Are you threatening me, Lachance?”


	8. Jester

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Guess who?

The kids surrounded the table yelling and moving around bowls. The clinking of silverware and scratching of the chairs on the floors filled the room. 3 kids on each side, they shouted over their siblings for the butter, salt, or anything else that was slightly out of reach.   
Lucien sat on the edge of the table, unfazed and quietly writing in an extra journal he had found on one of the bookshelves. The long table they all resided at had obviously been lovingly used, with scratches and burn marks and worn seats around. A black ponytail swung in the kitchen, moving around the oven hurriedly, occasionally peering into the center room. Gwendolyn had leather mitts on, moving pan to oven to table and back again, before grinning where her kids couldn’t see her.  
She left the kitchen with a large mischievous smile.  
The kids recognized that face of evil mischief, and they all immediately stopped talking, and sat down silently and patiently. Nothing could get them to quiet down quite like a secret. Whatever she had hidden, they wanted to know. She held up one finger in a wait a moment gesture, and went back into the kitchen. She walked out with two large pans full of sweet rolls.  
The kids cheered loudly and hit the table in excitement. Their raucous chatting in response to their favorite treat was her best joy, but she had something else in store.  
She kept her smile, and laid her hands down all the table.  
“I have another surprise.”  
They all stopped immediately, and sat back down.  
“Kids, who do you know,” She leaned in, “that LOVES sweet rolls?”  
Confused glances passed in between them. Everyone loves sweet rolls, they were SWEET ROLLS. Who could she be talking about?

A knock came on the door as if on cue, followed by 9 more fast and impatient knocks.

Everyone turned and looked down the table at the front door, completely silent. Lucien turned to her, raising his eyebrow in question. She gave a slight nod.

Sofie was the first to catch on. Her face went from confusion to joy when she realized who it was, and bolted to the door. Her siblings yelled “WAIT!” and she stopped in her tracks. She turned to them, and waved them to her quickly. They cautiously followed.  
Francois turned to his excited sister, “Who is it?”  
She turned again, exasperated. Her siblings waited for an answer, but their answer was her opening the door to reveal the mystery person.

All at the same time, they shouted.  
“CICERO!!”

Gwendolyn laughed, moving into the front room. Her favorite jester charged towards her, still wearing his red and black clothes soaked from the rain.  
“Listener! Poor Cicero has missed you so much!” He hugged her middle tightly, lifting her off the ground.  
“Hello Cicero, I missed you too.” She smiled. “Go to the fire and dry off and I’ll bring you a sweet roll, okay?” His face lit up and he opened his mouth, but she commanded him. “Fire. Go.”   
When he let go and went further into the house, Gwendolyn bent down to Sofie. “Can you go get him a blanket please?” Her child vigorously nodded, ready to help her favorite visitor.

 

Cicero on his way to the fire saw the blue ghost, and grinned again.  
“Lucien!”  
“Hello Cicero, long time no see.” Lucien looked up from his book long enough to see Cicero wrapping his head in a hug.  
“Did you know you are Cicero’s favorite ghost? You are, you are!” He sang. Gwendolyn’s head leaned in from the doorway.  
“Cicero, what did I say about being gentle with Lucien?”  
Cicero looked down at his captive, realizing his arms had gone through Lucien’s head from hugging too tight. “Oops! Light hugs, light hugs!” He tried again, this time very gently hugging Lucien’s head. The ghost looked mildly dizzy, and had his eyes shut. He nodded a thank you to Gwendolyn as the jester fled towards the fire. She chuckled, nodding back and moving back to the inside of the dining room.   
Her kids ran into the room where Cicero was, sitting in a half circle. They patiently waited for one of his stories or jokes they loved so much. Cicero was happy to oblige and began straight away.  
Gwendolyn sat down across from Lucien, head in his hand. He lightly laughed.  
“I didn’t realize I was competing with any other ghosts to be Cicero’s favorite.”  
She shrugged her shoulder, grinning. She observed him as he lifted up his head and took off his hood, trying to recover from the mild invasion.  
“Don’t worry, Lucien, you’re my favorite too.”  
He threw up his hands in exasperation. “Again, where are the other ghosts?!”


	9. Phantom

He had to admit, he loved to watch her in action.  
Stealth was a skill trained in initiates early on, but with no dark training, she moved with the shadows like a dance, fluid and silent. She may have been trained in many things, but the way she moved, looked like she was born an assassin. She now shifted along the sides of the town.   
With all of the citizens sleeping, she was completely free to hunt her next victim. If he didn’t know to look for her, he was sure he would’ve been oblivious to her presence. In the dark of night, the only thing visible of her were her eyes. Yellow and bright, they glowed like a contained fire and with her mask on, they flashed like lanterns. Her clothes were pitch-black, her hood obscuring her face. In this moment, she seemed more phantom than he.  
He wanted to go with her, but she had asked him to keep watch. No one could enter behind her and compromise her position, so he waited a ways away behind a wall. Just enough to see her, just enough to not be seen.  
Gwendolyn jumped from space to space, until she was on her victim’s porch, ear to the door. If they were awake, it would be important to know before sending their soul off to Sithis. Crouching beneath the door’s window, she saw Lucien’s head peek from behind a wall. He was barely able to see her, as was the point of black clothes, but she knew he was looking for some sort of sign that she had not been compromised.  
No sound came from the door, and no candles were lit. They were asleep. She carefully laid her hand on the doorknob, and turned to Lucien in the distance. Winking, and hoping he caught the message, she slipped into the house.

Lucien watched for any signal. She listened patiently, and he waited to make sure it was all clear. Suddenly, one of the two lanterns he watched so carefully went out, and came back as quick as it had gone. Then she turned and entered the house. His immediate thought was _she’s been shot in the eye_ , but realizing she hadn’t, he breathed out. A small heart attack for a heartless ghost.  
His eyes widened, and he flipped around the wall, visible to no one anymore. _She just winked. She winked at me. That’s not a big deal._ Still, he knew it mattered to him a great deal, as much as he wish he didn’t care. Dragging his hand across his face in irritation, he mentally asked Sithis why he, as immortal protector of the Listener, would need a heart rate. He received no answer. What use would I have for a heart rate at all? Why would that be necessary? He could only hope he had to the ability to calm it down before she was finished. _I am an assassin, I do not have compromising emotions. I do not have comprom- Chanting it isn't going to help._  
Gwendolyn slipped out of the house as silently as she came, wiping the blood off her dagger onto her pant leg. She quietly shut the door to avoid suspicion until they were out of reach. Sheathing the dagger, she glided through the darkness towards Lucien’s wall. Turning the corner, she pulled down her cowl, opening her mouth to say something, but instead just getting confused. Lucien was leaned against the wall, hand over his heart and face dark blue.  
She whispered to get his attention, cocking an eyebrow. “Lucien?”  
He pulled his dagger, startled. “I’LL KI-”  
She leapt back, “Hey hey woah it’s me!”  
“Oh, I’m sorry. I wasn’t expecting you to be out so soon.”  
“Never mind my stunning murder abilities, are you okay? You’re a darker blue than usual.”  
He cursed under his breath. “Yes, don’t worry about me. That’s my job.” Failing at regaining his composure, he looked down the road she had came, avoiding eye contact. “We should go before dawn falls.”  
She still had cogs turning in her brain, he could tell. He also knew she saw him putting his guard up and she didn’t know why. He knew the question was coming, and was going to avoid it if he could. He hurriedly walked down the road towards their horse, turning his whole body away from her. _She doesn’t like you, Lucien. You are nothing but a phantom in her life. Don’t be naive. You are a ghost._  
She finally turned, falling into step behind him.  
“Lucien?”  
He pretended to be out of earshot.  
“Lucien?”  
“Listener, if you speak any louder, you’ll alert the guards.”  
She rolled her eyes. “Lucien.”  
He sighed, and stopped. “Yes?”  
She stopped a little ways behind him, and smiled mischievously.  
“Answer me honestly, Lachance. That's an order.”   
“Always.” He maintained his neutral expression.  
“Were you just blushing, or is there something actually wrong with you that I need to fix?”  
He turned back to the road and walked on. She fell into step behind him again, keeping her eyes on the back of his hood. Before mounting the horse, he turned his head over his shoulder.

“There is nothing wrong with me.”


	10. Quest Giver

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: His name is Sunny, and he's about to be very spoiled. Also, Gwendolyn begins contemplating exactly how impossible she can get.

The carriage ride was bumpy, and it was late. Gwendolyn was exhausted from the day’s work, ready to return home. The carriage driver was oblivious to his passengers, probably having done this path so much he was zoned out.  
Lucien sat, looking down the head in his lap. She had commented earlier that she never felt safe sleeping, lest she die like so many of her victims. In their sleep, near their families, bodies waiting to be found. She then went horizontal on the carriage, saying “I trust you won’t let me die in my sleep.”, and she was out minutes later.  
He thought about the feeling of exhaustion. How strongly she must’ve felt it. How it felt to him all those years ago. Death stole many things from you. It gifted painless existence, but sometimes he contemplated whether pain was worth the rest of life’s ups and downs. Sometimes he felt it was, and he missed it.  
He held her head with one hand, making sure she never felt the gaps in the road and woke up. She seemed...relaxed, a pose he’d rarely ever seen in her consciousness. It seemed like him being there gave her leave to let her guard down, and he admitted he was happy she did.  
They were getting near the house, and he had something he needed to do, so as much as he regretted it, he woke her up. Lightly tapping his index finger on her nose, he whispered to her.  
“Listener, we are almost home.”  
She shook slightly, and opened her bright eyes. “Oh, Lucien I’m sorry, How long was I out?”  
He shook his head smiling. “No matter, there’s something I have to give you before we arrive.”  
Her eyes widened. “A present?”  
“Yes, a present.” He chuckled. He moved his opposite arm down to the carriage floor, and gently picked up a black cat. He set him on her lap.  
She was very obviously happy with him, immediately cradling him, making childish noises, and gently petting him. He never once showed any hostility towards her, admittedly odd for a stray, completely content to receive her love. It was so, so easy to forget this woman had just finished killing someone.  
“He hopped on the carriage while you were asleep. Quite a friendly hitchhiker.”  
“Lucien, I love him!”  
“I hoped you would. This way, you will have a companion with you, even when I am not here.”  
She smiled sadly, and leaned against his arm, still mildly recovering from waking up. “As much as I love him, no one could replace you. Sometimes I wish you never left. I wish there was no waiting time in between times I could see you.” _That’s cheesy, Gwendolyn. Gods, do you think before you speak?_  
He laughed, making sure not to shift the arm she was on. “I never intend to leave you, Listener, but I agree. Being a ghost does hurt my ability to take a punch a little.”  
Gwendolyn’s brow furrowed. Now felt like a weird time, but her mind shot back to Olva. Her crazy question of “fixing” Lucien’s ghost status rang in Gwendolyn’s ears. Sure, having him alive would be a dream, but a lot of people never got to see their loved ones after death. She was lucky to even know him. But who gave him the ability to appear as a ghost? Would they be able to..?  
The god of the Dark Brotherhood himself. Sithis.  
“Lucien, have you ever wanted to be alive again?”


	11. Haunted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: alcohol, death
> 
> Uhm, forgive me on this one guys....I can't defend myself without giving spoilers so just....Mercy?

The boat rocked and swayed with the waves of the dark blue water. The sky was dark and cloudy, with the feeling of a withheld storm. She had a bad feeling about this island, and she knew why. Shaking her head, she cleared her negative thoughts.  
_All I’m here to do is get some herbs, maybe talk to a few merchants, and leave. Nothing bad will happen. I know what I need, and I know how to avoid what I don’t._  
Even with her self pep-talk, something was stirring in the air.  
She focused her attention to the jester in her lap. Cicero had his head on her legs, pulling his hat over his face. He was wrapped around himself in fetal position, and was very uncomfortable.  
“Cicero, you okay?” She idly pet his hair.  
His response was muffled through the fabric of his hat. “Noooo. Poor Cicero hates the sea.”  
“I know, I know, we’re almost there, sweetpea.” She saw the island in the distance. It would be 10 more minutes at most.  
She looked up from him to Lucien, sitting on the opposite side of the boat, absentmindedly watching the waves. The wind had whipped off his hood over and over again and he gave up trying to keep it on. He looked like he was in deep concentration, like he was lost in another world and left his shell behind.  
“Hey, Lucien.” He still stared at the water.  
“Lucien.” No response.  
“Lucien?” Still nothing. He really was somewhere else.  
“Luuuucie!” She hoped his nickname would get an answer. He turned around suddenly, looking mildly irritated.  
“You know I hate that name.” He frowned. “Is it so much effort to say one more letter?”  
She rolled her eyes. “Okay drama queen, I was just using it to pull you back to me from wherever you just were. Are you okay?”  
He nodded. “I was just lost in my own thoughts. How is he?” He gestured to the groaning jester.  
Her eyes went down, still affectionately patting his head. “He’ll be better once we get there.”  
She look up to see the island much closer. “Cicero, it’s all clear now. We’re getting off the boat.”  
He removed his hands, pouting. “Cicero does not like boats. Not. at. All!”  
They stepped off the boat, grateful for the stability of the dock. Gwendolyn led the team into Raven Rock. She turned her head over her shoulder. “Welcome to Solstheim.”  
Cicero jumped happily. “OOOh! Cicero loves to explore new places! Are we exploring, Listener?”  
Her face hardened. “Don’t get too far away from me, okay? There are some places here not meant for us.”  
He nodded vigorously. “Cicero will stay very close. Very very close. Hehe!” He bumped into her shoulder, giggling.  
Lucien watched Gwendolyn’s entire posture change entering the town. Her face was stone, her body stiff. Her hands were fists, like she was preparing for a fight. Whatever past she had in this town, it wasn’t good. He picked up his pace to walk beside her.  
“Listener, I can’t help but notice you’re on edge. Is everything alright?”  
She nodded solemnly. “Sometimes your past mistakes never leave you. I will be happier when we are done here.”  
He nodded, and moved his gaze back forward. Whatever was here, haunting her, he would haunt it first.  
\--  
She walked through the center of the town, moving to an alchemist’s table. Rummaging through her pockets for money, she heard Cicero “ooo” at the tavern on the other side of the well.  
“Cicero, stay with Lucien please.”  
“Oh Listener, Cicero will be just a moment!” He raced towards the tavern doors. She turned around quickly, yelling for him, but he was out of Lucien’s reach and into the doors before either of them could get out a syllable. It was a nightmare. He needed to get out of there as quick as possible, but the thought going in there made her sick.  
She hurriedly turned back to the alchemist, muttering a quick apology and an “I’ll be right back.” before racing to the doors after the jester. She got right in front of the door, before pausing, calming her shaky breath.  
Turning her head to Lucien, he had never seen her look more terrified. Her face had turned pure fear and regret. He stood next to her, not knowing how to combat the terror within her. She flipped from a terrified child to a woman made of stone, and placed her hand on the doorknob.  
Her voice, unwavering, was laced with poison. “Stay behind me.”  
\--  
Entering the tavern, it was made of rock and torch, with the main floor being underground. The room was lined with tables, none very populated except a few. The fire on the other side was, besides the tension in the air, very nice. In the center of the room, a large staircase led down, to where the bar was located, along with a few rooms to rent. Cicero was nowhere to be found on the first floor, so she assumed he had gone down the stairs to explore the tavern’s hallways.  
As soon as the door opened, she recognized her poison. At a table near the fire, a mercenary sat, idly drinking a dark liquid. His helmet was on the table, and he was tilted in his chair. She froze on him for a moment too long, and her stomach dropped. Lucien put his hand on her shoulder, hoping to remind her she wasn’t alone. He saw the fear in her eyes again. She relaxed, and nodded her head over her shoulder to silently thank him. I can do this. I’ve suffered worse. She moved towards the stairs when the mercenary turned.  
“Now that! Is a face I haven’t seen in a while!” He exclaimed. She stopped in her tracks, glaring daggers in his direction.  
“Sero.”  
Lucien’s mind flipped through the things he could have possibly done to hurt her.  
_A mercenary? She could kill him if she wanted, that’s not the issue. Is it something he took? Did he kill someone she knew? What vendetta plagues you, Listener?_  
The mercenary clumsily held up his drink. “Aw, c’mon, sweetheart! You know my full name! Won’t you come over and say hello to an old friend?”  
...What?  
Gwendolyn, fists at her sides, moved up the stairs and towards his table. Lucien, albeit confused, followed.  
“If I didn’t, you would just follow me again, Teldryn.”She spat out his name.  
“That I would, sweetcheeks, that I would. See? You DO know my name. How’s my favorite old friend doing?”  
“We are not friends, Sero.”  
“That’s not what you said when-”  
_“Teldryn.”_  
“Right, right. Not s’pposed mention that.”  
Lucien stood absolutely clueless.  
“Listener, who is this elf?”  
Teldryn set his drink down, holding his hand out to him. “Teldry-”  
Gwendolyn slapped his hand away. “Do not touch him. Lucien, this mer is a mistake I cannot erase. Sero, I must be leaving. A friend of mine I believe is downstairs.”  
He stood up quickly. “Wait, wait, Gwen-”  
“Do not call me that.”  
“I’ve missed you.”  
“I do not care.”  
“We used to be so close.”  
“Whose fault is it that we aren’t?”  
“Can I have one last hug?  
“Do _not_ touch me.”  
“Cmon, Gwen please-”  
The elf opened his arms to her, ignoring her order. She stepped back, fear flooding back into her eyes. Lucien quickly stepped in between them, holding his blade to Teldryn’s stomach. The mer halted in his place, while Gwendolyn shifted further behind. His glare was direct, piercing, and wholly unforgiving.  
“Move, and I will disembowel you. You will die before you can even pray to your god for deliverance. Do you understand me?”  
The elf stood, shellshocked and silent.  
“Do. You. Understand. Me?”  
He nodded quickly.  
“Sit down.”  
He returned to his seat, hands up in surrender.  
Lucien sheathed his dagger, stepping aside, allowing Gwendolyn to move back forward.  
She nodded in thanks to him, giving him a small smile to show she was okay. He glanced back, relaxing, and nodding in return.  
“Teldryn, is there something you need from me, or can I leave?”  
The mer’s eyes were pleading, a change from his drunkard state.  
“Gwen-Gwendolyn please, listen to me.”  
Her face remained unmoved. “Make it quick.”  
The ghost admired her complete immunity to his plea. Sure, he loved watching her be affectionate with her kids and the animals she found on the road, or even Cicero, but this side of her, the cold and unfeeling side of her? That was the assassin. She was truly a worthy Listener, and she knew it.  
The mer held his hands out again, this time just to emphasize. “I know what I did was wrong-”  
“Correct.”  
“-and I’m sorry-”  
“You should be.”  
“-if I could just make it up to you-”  
“How?”  
He stopped mid-sentence. He had no answer.  
“Even if there was a way to fix the trust I had in you, you wouldn’t understand the pain enough to even come close.”  
“I-”  
Nothing could stop her now. She was going to make sure this pitiful excuse of an elf _knew._  
“Do you understand what it felt like? Do you?”  
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.  
“Do you know how it felt, watching the priests become more and more confused? To sit there, waiting for someone who would never show up? The shame I felt, when I had to leave the temple because they finally had to close? They had lost faith in you coming, but I didn’t. I sat on the steps, waiting for you for hours. Do you know how it feels to be abandoned by someone you think so highly of?!”  
Teldryn sat, silent, completely out of answers. Her voice raised with every word.  
“I waited for you until my wedding dress was nothing but rags. _You do not DESERVE my respect._ " With this, she closed her eyes and sighed, dropping her volume. "My respect, or my forgiveness.”

Lucien stood, shocked. She had never said anything about...

“Now, if you will excuse me. I have to retrieve my friend.” She turned on her heel, and marched down the stairs. The mer sat completely still, watching her leave. Lucien fell into step behind her, hiding his surprise behind a mask of indifference.  
“I'm sorry you had to be there for that, Lucien.” She visibly released the tension in her shoulders, suddenly looking much more exhausted than she was earlier.  
“Don’t be sorry. I would rather be there than leave you alone with him.”  
“I prefer that too.” She gave a tired smile, before dropping her bag onto a chair. “I’ll find Cicero, can you get him some bread? I should still have some. It’ll help his stomach.”  
Lucien nodded. “Of course.”  
Gwendolyn left down the expanse of hallways, calling for the jester.  
Lucien rustled through the bag, looking for the bread she had asked for. While shifting the items, he looked a little longer at a small bottle. It was filled with a dark liquid, and the faded label had an “X” and what looked to be a spider symbol. Venom, he supposed. He paused, before setting the small bottle on the table. Turning back to the task at hand, he quickly found the bread, and set it down on the table alongside the bottle. He shut the bag, and checked to see if Gwendolyn was back yet.  
A faint “Cicero?” echoed from down a hallway he couldn’t locate. She hadn’t found him yet. Lucien pocketed the bottle and left the bread, before becoming completely invisible. The bartender looked up, dumbfounded at where he had went. Lucien observed the old man’s confused glances around the room, before turning and hurrying up the stairs.  
\--  
Gwendolyn walked back into the bar area, Cicero in tow, immediately slinging her pack over her shoulder and picking up the bread on the table.  
“Cicero, eat this.”  
“Why?”  
“Because I said so.”  
Cicero frowned before taking the bread. Through chews he muttered unhappily.  
“Cicero does not think that’s a very good reason.”  
Gwendolyn gave him a pointed glance, and he held up his hands.  
“Cicero will eat.”  
“Good.” She smiled wide, and he grinned back, mouth still full of bread.  
Rolling her eyes, she turned her attention to the absent ghost.  
“Lucien? Where’d you go?” She swiveled around, not seeing anything blue or glowy.  
He stepped out from behind a pillar, hands folded behind his back.  
“I am still here, Listener.”  
She sighed again, slinging her pack over her shoulder. “Okay team, time to head out.”  
Walking up the stairs, the two others followed in suit. Lucien stayed near the back to make sure Cicero didn’t have any other spontaneous adventures, and moved his hands out from behind his back.  
When she got to the top of the stairs, she glanced at Teldryn, bottle in his hand and passed out on the table. She rolled her eyes before pressing through the door.  
“Pitiful drunkard.”

Lucien closed the bottle.


	12. Secret Keeper

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Ooooo, Lord have mercy.
> 
> tw: a lil blood
> 
> Song: Addicted to You, by Avicii (I'm a cheese, let me live my life)

Gwendolyn stormed in, out of breath. “Olva, I need your help.”

The old woman turned from the pot she was stirring, surprised. “I’m happy to see you too, dear, but what’re you doing here?”  
“You know how I am known across Skyrim for doing impossible things?”  
Olva hesitated, “There is many stories of that, yes?”

“Well, I think I’m going to do one more.”  
\--  
The two women were sitting down at the table, leaned in, talking hurriedly and excitedly. Gwendolyn faced Olva, while Olva kept careful watch on the door.  
“I knew it sounded crazy, but oooOOO!” Olva threw her hands up. “Bless the divines, this girl is crazier! How can I help?”  
“This is going to be the last thing I would want to do, but I need to run from him. He needs to be nowhere near me when I do this.” Gwendolyn frowned.  
Olva nodded fervently. “Okay, yes. This is a surprise? For him? Good. Okay.”  
“And my kids love him.”  
“Almost as much as you do.”  
“Olva, focus.”  
“Okay, okay, girl. Go on, I’ll hush.”  
“Can you watch my kids while I travel there?”  
“Of course! Your children are darlings. Will he be helping with me?”  
Gwendolyn tilted her head, “Well, here’s the thing. I know how his brain works..”  
Olva smirked.  
“Olva. Come on now.”  
She rolled her eyes, “Alright, alright. What am I supposed to do now, wear a mask? So you can’t see my face? Whatever, tell me how this is going down.”  
Gwendolyn’s stomach had twists and her fingers were quickly moving and tapping on the table as she spoke. She was obviously very excited. Olva smiled, Oh, to be young again.  
“Simply asking him to watch my kids while I’m gone for a week, he will suspect something. He won’t say no, he’s too sweet, but he would rather be in the field. I need something to convince him to stay there.”  
“I can tell him that 6 kids is too much for me to handle. Will he buy that?”  
“No, he knows my kids well enough to know they don’t need constant supervision.”  
“Well, what will convince him then?”  
“I thi-”  
Olva quickly kicked her under the table to shut her up when the door opened. Gwendolyn’s stomach did a flip when she heard the floor scratch, and she quickly bit down on her lip out of instinct. Immediately she tasted copper blood and flinched. _Damn it. Hide the blood!_ Lucien’s head popped through the door curiously. She felt her heart pound a million times a minute. Whether or not it was him or their almost-intrusion, she didn’t know. Was it both?  
“Sorry Listener, your child has a question. Is your lip-?”  
She waved it off, speaking too quickly. “ItsokayImfine, what’s the question?”  
Lucien cocked his eyebrow before Runa and Francois’s head popped out from underneath him. Their heads looked comical stacked up together.  
“Mama, what’s your favorite flower?” Francois excitedly erupted.  
She couldn’t hide her smile. “Hmm, why?”  
Runa rolled her eyes. “We asked first, Ma!”  
Lucien was looking down at the two kids, still halfway in the doorway. He was smiling, but trying hard to pretend he wasn’t. He wasn’t doing so well. _Oh lord. Look at him. Look at him being cute with them. Oooh lord. Sithis have mercy on me now._  
Gwendolyn tried to calm down her heart and not mess up her words. Her kids were observant, and she knew what Runa thought of the ghost Mama always had around.  
“I’ll love any flowers you find.” She smiled and held out her arms to the kids, who barreled in, crushing her happily. They giggled, before racing back out the door. Lucien waited a moment, before Runa yelled “Lucien, come ON!” from the street.  
“Excuse me, Listener, I’m being summoned.” He chuckled, before shutting the door.  
Gwendolyn turned back to the old woman, and hid her face in her hands.  
“Ooooh my. That was just adorable.” Olva commented in the silence.  
Through her gloves, the words were muffled, but they were very obviously “Shut up”.  
Olva pretended to swoon in her chair. “I think I’m actually feeling something.”  
“mmShOush”  
“You two are so cute.”  
“shhOOOuuush”  
“Did you see his face? He totally loves your kids. Did you see him? I’m an old woman, Gwen. You can’t be giving me heart attacks.”  
“ppppssShuudh”  
“He’s totally in love with you! Invite me to the wedding, okay?”  
“Noheessnnt”  
Olva stopped in the middle of her theatrical fainting.  
“You’re not serious, are you?”  
Gwendolyn removed her burning face from her hands. “What?”  
“You don’t think he loves you?”  
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. “He’s just my friend, Olva, we've been over this.” She looked at the floor. “He’s a ghost. I’m not naive, I won’t hope for something I can’t have.”  
Olva threw her hands up. “Except you HAVE him! He’s willingly wrapped around your finger! “ Olva wiggled her fingers across the table in Gwendolyn’s face. “Goodness girl, you may be smart, but you are BLIND!”  
She groaned. “Olva, can we please just continue before he pops in again and my heart comes out and onto the floor.”  
“Okay, dear. You will realize someday. I can wait.”  
“Anyways, I’m thinking that if neither you nor I can convince him, I think I know someone who can.”  
“Who?”  
Gwendolyn looked pointedly out the window. Her kids were on the street, gathering flowers along the side. They seemed very happy to be outside in the sunlight. Lucien was kneeling in front of Dorthe, being given a flower crown. He put it on, stood up, and she ran away. _That’s just too much. Look at him. Oh looord._  
Olva looked where she was looking, then looked back surprised.  
“Your kids??”  
“They’ll be the only ones who can get him to help them. Lucien doesn’t even like kids all that much. They know the hold they have on him, and they’ll use it to their advantage.”  
“But you’d have to tell them?”  
“Tell them what? That I’m about to talk to the Lord of the Void to ask for the impossible, or that I’m going to surprise Lucien? Which one am I going to tell my kids, I wonder?”  
“I was more referring to telling them that you’re head over heels for him, but okay.”  
“Oh.”  
“Are we telling them that? Because I’d like to be there for that. Not the Lord of the Void part, the head over heels part.  
“Should I?”  
Olva sat up in her seat, “Are you considering it? Uh, YES. LET’S GO. RIGHT NOW.”  
“HEY HEY WOAH, sit down you crazy maniac! You yell any louder and Lucien will come thinking something’s wrong.”  
“That’s adorable.”  
“He might think I’m killing you and come in to help.”  
“Less adorable.”  
“That’s what I thought.”  
“So are we telling them? I feel like they’d be more willing to help then.”  
Gwendolyn dragged her hand over her face. “I guess we will. I can't believe I'm doing this..."  
\--  
"And on the way, can we tell him?"  
"NO, Olva!"  
\--  
Her heart was beating out of her chest. She trusted her kids, but what would they say? How would they react? Was this going to go well? Oh divines, what if he HEARS?  
Her face was a thinly veiled neutral. If Lucien wasn’t up towards the front, talking with Minette, he would’ve definitely questioned her. _He can read me like a book, I know it. I have to get out as fast as I can._ Luckily Olva was next to her, acting as emotional support.  
Olva leaned over, whispering out the corner of her mouth. “How are we going to make sure he isn’t, y’know, within earshot?”  
Gwendolyn was determined. She held up one hand, with an apple in it. “I know what I’m doing.”  
“Cryptic, but I trust you.”  
As they neared the house, the kids easily entered, talking ceaselessly, and Olva walked in behind them, giving her a wink.  
“Lucien!” she called out on the front of the porch.  
He turned towards her, “Yes Listener? Is there something you need?”  
“Actually yes, can you do me a favor?”  
“Always.” _Please Lucien, my heart._  
She held up the apple. “Can you feed this to Shadowmere? I feel like she’ll like you giving it to her more.”  
He very visibly lit up. “I can do that!” He descended the steps, taking the apple and going towards the stables.  
While feeding Shadowmere an apple wouldn’t take that long, he loved that horse and would spend way longer than he needed out there. She still had a limited amount of time to get the job done though. She went into the house.  
\--  
As soon as the door shut, the timer started. Adrenaline pulsed through the air of the house as fast as it did her in veins. Olva turned into the house, whisper-yelling commands.  
“Everyone! Upstairs, now!”  
The tone of her voice indicated something important was happening, and they raced up the stairs. Footsteps loudly pounded the floorboards with the stampede. Their mother quickly emerged from the kitchen, hurriedly closing every door behind her.  
“Everyone, silently! Left corner of the bedroom, you know your steps!” They were children of an assassin after all, and they moved up the stairs without so much of a peep or a creak of wood. The stampede had vanished. They all rushed through the hallway and gathered into the bedroom, adults moving quickly behind them. An outsider would think they were hiding from a storm, but really this corner was the furthest place in the house from the stables. The children shuffled quietly into the corner as far as they could, piling on top of each other.  
Olva moved in from the side, impressed. “For children who love to talk, you guys are good at shutting up!” The old woman grinned mischievously, and the children snickered.  
Gwendolyn quickly slid into the room, shutting the door behind her. The look on her face intrigued her children. It wasn't the mischievous grin they were used to, but it was....something.  
“Kids, we don’t have much time before Lucien comes in and finds us. Do you guys remember how to scatter and act casual?”  
They nodded in unison.  
“Okay, I trust you guys to never repeat anything that comes out of this room.”  
They nodded again, excitedly this time. The adrenaline built.  
“I have to tell you guys something.”  
The kids rustled around, barely containing their curiosity. They all looked at each other and almost vibrated with their energy. Olva had her hands over her mouth, trying not to grin too hard.  
Gwendolyn opened her mouth, but a hand shot up from the mound.  
“Mama!”  
“Yes??”  
“Is it about Lucien?”  
...  
“...Yes?”  
The kids could barely contain themselves. Neither adult had any idea why they were so excited, but they most certainly were.The kids tried very hard to remember their order of being quiet but they were growing rowdy, when another hand shot up. The kids all silenced in unison, looking at the hand of their sister, then to their mother, awaiting an answer.

“Mama!! Mama!!”

The kids’ eyes and smiles were wide, but they dared not move. This was the day of a lifetime. They knew the question of their sister, they hoped they knew the answer of their mother.  
Gwendolyn faced the 6 onlookers, almost afraid. Her stomach was performing the trapeze act of a lifetime at the moment. The children’s faces looked like they were frozen in the height of their joy. Boy, did they hope they knew the answer to this one.  
“Yes?” She held her breath.

“Are you in love with Lucien?”

\--

 

Time stopped moving. Her heart stopped moving. She looked to Olva for support but the old woman's face was frozen in shock and delight. She felt her face flush with heat. Her knees felt weak for a mere second, but it felt like an eternity. The floor fell from beneath her, but she stood still. Time itself fell from beneath her, but she stood still.

Suddenly, she found herself, sitting in the sanctuary all that time ago. Banners on the walls. Candles dimly lit. Sitting at the dining room table in her long-gone dark brotherhood robes. Nazir and Babette watched her with curious concern. The purple light was already wrapping itself around her fingertips, and the portal suddenly opened up. She watched him step through, heart racing.  
“Hello, Listener.”

Suddenly, she found herself sitting on the floor of her bedroom. 3am. Blood staining the rocks in the floor. Cut in her leg. Blankets clumsily torn from the bed. Purple light wound itself through, like a thread tying her to somewhere she couldn’t see. She watched him step through, heart leaping.  
“My Listener, what happened to you?”

Suddenly, she found herself in a million places at once. Memories flew past her eyes like pages of a book.  
She felt her grip tighten on a sleeve that wasn’t technically there.  
She felt her feet tap on the rock she had been waiting on, loyal to the minute.  
She felt the music as she danced with her children, glancing at him every two seconds to make sure he was still there.  
She felt the hope flood through her veins hearing the stone doors slam open.  
She felt the relief looking at something blurry and blue in the depths of her pain.  
She felt the hand brush away her hair, thanking a priest.  
She felt herself suppress her laughter, watching the jester squeeze his head too tight.  
She felt her heart watching his face turn dark blue, containing her smile.  
She felt her heart, holding a black cat in her lap.  
She felt her heart watching him effortlessly glide between her and her worst fear, like it was no question. Like he’d do it over and over again without hesitation.  
Her mind flipped through a million different snapshots of him, each one weaving its light purple thread around her heart.

Suddenly, she found herself standing back in her bedroom. Her kids awaited her answer. Olva stared at her in delight. Olva knew the answer, her kids knew the answer, she knew the answer. Now all she had to do was...say it.  
She relaxed, smiled, and exhaled, almost laughing. 

“Oh gods, I am.”  
\--  
The whooping was almost too loud to bear! Being silent was OUT the window and it was NOT coming back! The children exploded into laughter and yelling, patting each other and patting their mother! They leaped and jumped about the room, unable to contain the sheer joy of being right! Their happiness was infectious and soon Olva and Gwendolyn joined them in smiles and hugs and dancing about the room. Adrenaline was replaced with excitement as the family laughed joyfully. Gwendolyn almost fell over laughing, before grabbing Olva’s sleeve.  
“Olva! We, we forgot!” Gwendolyn bent over in laughter again. “We forgot to tell them about the plan!” Olva’s eyes widened.  
“Oh my gosh, he’s gonna come in any second! I have to go distract him!” Olva bolted towards the door flying down the steps. “Kids!! Listen to your mother!”  
Gwendolyn pulled all of her kids into a clumsy half-circle. From their huddle, you’d think they were planning defense in a game, and technically, they were.  
”Kids, I need you to keep Lucien here for a week. He’s not gonna want to stay here without me.”  
“Does he know?!”  
“Know what?”  
“That you love him!!!”  
“No!”  
“Can we tell him??”  
Gwendolyn grabbed the ear of the child playfully, “If you even think about it young man! I will ground you for SO long!”  
Runa piped up. “Why do you have to leave without him? Why aren’t we telling him?”  
“I’m going to...surprise him.”  
“With a ring?”  
“NO! No more questions! Can you guys keep him here or not?”  
“Of course we can, but mom!”  
“What??”  
“Why aren’t we telling him?”  
The kids all wondered this, and shot each other curious glances. How could they live happily ever after if they didn’t know?  
“Because he doesn’t like me like that!” Gwendolyn hurriedly blurted out.  
A moment of silence passed. The kids all looked at each other in unison, then back at their mother. Their faces were a mix of confusion and disbelief.  
Runa was the one to ask, again.  
“Are you serious?”  
“Yes!”  
“No Mama, don’t you know?”  
“Do I know what?”  
Minette piped up this time. “He definitely likes you, Mama!”  
Sofie leaped. “Yeah Ma, we thought you’d noticed!”  
Knud threw his hands. “We didn’t know if you liked him back since you never said anything!”  
Dorthe finished off. “We didn’t know it was 'cause you're blind!!” They laughed.  
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. “I seem to be getting that a lot. And besides, how do you little gremlins know?”  
The kids were silent, and all looked to Runa again. She sheepishly raised her hand.  
“Well, he uh, kind of uh…”  
“...He told us.”

“He _WHAT?_ ”


	13. Mother

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Just a normal loredas night in THIS household.

She quickly headed out the door, wanting to have to leave him behind no longer than she had too. Pack slung on her back, the party had all moved outside to bid her farewell. Shadowmere was ready on the road, and the kids were happily petting her before they had to go. The horse, not their mother.  
“Again, thank you Lucien. I know this isn’t what you signed up for, but still it means a lot.”  
He waved it off. “Listener, I signed up for anything that would help you. If it makes you safe or happy, I would do it. Even if it means tolerating your mischievous children.” He cast a playful glance at Runa, who in turn yelled “hey!”  
“Thank you Lucien, I will be back as soon as possible.”  
“I would hope so.”  
She rolled her eyes and swatted his arm, before laughing and hugging him goodbye. He gently returned the hug like she was made of porcelain. His experience with Cicero had been...uncomfortable.  
She let go, and sighed sadly.  
“The sooner I’m off, the sooner I’ll be back.”   
Lucien just nodded. It twisted her heart to not have him by her side, and she felt very alone riding off.  
\--  
Shadowmere seemed happy enough to return to the sanctuary in Dawnstar, and trotted in place outside. She slid off the horse, and entered, brushing snow off her shoulders.  
The sanctuary wasn’t very active, but her family still resided in it, and it made it feel a little safer than she felt on the ride here. Upon arriving, Nazir immediately yelled up the stairs.  
“Welcome home, Listener!”  
She laughed, “Hello Nazir! Is Cicero home?”  
She got her answer fairly quickly, from the rapid footsteps running from the Night Mother’s corner, up the stairs, and barreling into her. The jester had immediately picked her up and spun around.  
“Oh Listener! Cicero has missed you very VERY much!” Gwendolyn laughed again, happy to be welcome.  
“As much as I missed you, Cicero, I need to ask a favor.”  
“Anything, dear Listener, anything!”  
“I need some alone time with Mom. Like, you need to be out of earshot kind of alone time. Can you manage that?”  
He raised an eyebrow, but did not question her. “Of course! Cicero will be in the dining room with Nazir!”  
“Good. Thank you.”  
Cicero put her down and ran into the dining room, skidding and almost tripping over the table. Nazir very visibly rolled his eyes. She brushed herself off and headed for the Night Mother’s coffin.  
\--  
“Hello Mom.”  
The Night Mother’s voice hissed in her ears. “Listener. What is it you require?”  
“I need to, uh,”  
“Yes?”  
“I need to talk with Sithis.”  
The NIght Mother was silent for a moment.  
“Listener. May I ask why?”  
“Mom, can you keep a secret?” To an outsider, this would be an alien conversation. Sitting in front of a coffin, asking a disembodied voice for an audience. To her, the Night Mother was a being she could trust, like the rest of the Dark Brotherhood. She was nervous about this plan, and no one could advise her better.  
“Of course. Is this about Lucien?”  
Gwendolyn’s shoulders sunk. “So you know too, huh? I wasn’t doing a very good job hiding it, was I?”  
“I could tell from him, not you, Listener.”  
“What?”  
“The way he acted in his past life, is not the same he acts with you.”  
“You knew him?”  
“Of course. Do you plan to ask Sithis for him?”  
Gwendolyn blushed. “Well, technically, yes?”  
“Technically?”  
“I planned on making a deal for him to be brought back to life. Now, I know it’s probably impossible, and I’m willing to try, but I’m scared. I wanted your advice. You know Sithis better than me. I’m not even really sure I can….talk…..to him.” She anxiously ran a hand through her hair. “How do I even do this, mom? Out of all the things I’ve done in life, reversing death would have to be my most ambitious.”  
“Child. Do not fear.”  
“Oh gosh, what if Lucien doesn’t even want to be alive? It’s not like I’ve asked him directly, but how could I? I’m being selfish. He always talks about the void, he probably doesn’t want to leave. Who am I to take that from him?”  
“Listener.”  
“Being summoned is completely different from being alive. He would spend every waking minute on the mortal plane, in a time he doesn’t know. He would hate me for taking him from the void.”  
“Listener.”  
“Sorry Mom, I was rambling. I think this is a mistake.”  
“Listener.”  
“..Yes?”  
“If you asked him to spend his remaining days with you, what do you think he would say?”  
Gwendolyn looked at her hands, muttering. “I know what I hope he’d say.”  
“Listener.”  
“Yes?”  
“Talk to Sithis. Make a deal. Bring him back.”  
She took a deep breath in. That was all the approval she really needed. “Okay. I’m ready.”  
Next thing she knew, her knees hit the ground, and her consciousness faded into black. Her body lay splayed in front of the Night Mother’s coffin, like an offering herself. She was gone from the mortal plane, and thrust into the void.


	14. Father

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Song: Human, by Sevdaliza  
> (I REALLY recommend this song i think it fits well)
> 
> Summary: Odd parenting techniques, but I'm not judging.

In the void, she didn’t know what she expected, but she felt nothing. There was nothing around, she had no body. It was simultaneously the largest expanse she had ever felt, and the smallest box. She could move in any direction for all eternity and reach no boundary, and yet at the same time, the walls of the space made it hard to breath. _I don’t need to breath._  
With no body, it was hard to understand how to talk, but she felt the Night Mother’s gentle push in her mind. She pulled thoughts from her mind, and threw it out of her. It extended far out of her, and yet never left. What to say to greet a father you’ve never truly met?  
“Hail Sithis.” No echo, no sound.

_Hello daughter._

There was no voice. There was no true words. There was nothing, technically, but she understood them as clearly as the stars against the midnight sky. Somehow, she knew it was him, and she knew what he had said. There was no question to what He meant, and she felt his words echo through her being. _I have no being._

“Why am I not a ghost?”  
 _Your soul has not left your mortal body. You are merely a visitor. Your time will come._  
“Okay. That’s good, I guess.”  
 _Child. Why are you here?_  
“I want to propose a deal.”  
...  
 _Speak._  
“How many souls would I offer you to allow Lucien to return to life again?”   
It felt weird, like everything had been leading up to that sentence, ever since she stepped in the Sanctuary. It felt like an end, but was it really? The moment felt climatic, but short. It was here, then gone, and she did not miss it. She did not feel anything.  
 _You want him to leave the void? Why?_  
She felt the Night Mother nudge her mind towards things to say, as opposed to other ones. She pushed her mind towards more tactical thoughts. Thoughts to convince the god who ruled the void himself. _She wants me to make this deal as much as I do._  
“He is supposed to be my protector, as your loyal Listener. His spectral state impedes him. He would be more effective in life.”  
 _And yet you still live. Tell me child, why would I give up an assassin who works in my name?_  
“Do I not work in your name, in life?”  
 _Explain._  
“You want him to kill in your name in death, but I do this, and I have not died. Am I not your faithful Listener, until my time comes to return here? Do I not devote my life to you, as I devote myself in death? Does he not do the same?”  
 _If constant in both life and death, why does it matter? You will both end up here in the end. Why choose life over death?_  
“If constant in both life and death, why choose death over life? As you said, we will end up here anyways. I only ask for an extension.”

The void was eerily silent, while the Dread Lord contemplated her request. _The actual Dread Lord himself. Is this real?_

_You have asked, how many souls._  
Was he...considering it?  
“Yes.”  
 _How many souls you must offer me, for him to return?_  
“Yes.”  
 _How many souls you will send to the void in his place?_  
“Yes.”  
 _One hundred._

An answer.

Gwendolyn felt the surprise, nowhere and in nothing. This idea, simply uttered in a happy tavern months ago, was possible. Then here she was, making a deal in the void. How did it come to this?  
It was possible, and not only was it possible, it was _easy._

“That’s...it?”  
 _Would you rather me make it harder?_  
“No, no! Thank you Father.”  
 _Leave, daughter._ It wasn’t angry, just a dismissal. She was done.  
\--  
She found herself back in the Night Mother’s room. Opening her eyes, she felt the rush of warmth in her blood. Her heartbeat. She felt the cold rocks on the palms of her hands. She felt the air rush into her lungs. In the void, she felt nothing, and every sense was heightened once leaving. She felt her own body heat like the sun. Lucien was right, the void is cold.  
“Listener.”  
She pushed herself off the rocks, steadying herself. She now looked to be in devout prayer.  
“Mother… it worked.” She laughed, almost in disbelief. "It....It WORKED!"  
“Listener.”  
“Yes?”   
Gwendolyn looked up, at the carved face of the coffin.

“You have work to do.”


	15. Homecoming

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Runa and Lucien bicker for the 400th time. Gwen wants a nap.

The kitchen was nearly silent, except for Lucien’s occasional footsteps and the chatting coming lightly through the door. He shifted throughout the room, moving flour and spice into the bowl on the wooden counter, content to keep quiet. He occupied himself with cooking in the warm kitchen like he’d watched Gwendolyn do so many times before.  
For a busy cook, the kitchen was still relatively clean. He was meticulous to put things back and to not make a mess, even though sometimes it turned out to be...difficult. Everytime he picked up an ingredient to his recipe, he admired how little pieces of Gwendolyn were strewn about. Some ingredients were in sacks and color-coded. Others had their name scrawled on their jar, and he chuckled when they were written in an amalgam of dovah and readable language. They weren’t hard to decipher, but it was amusing to watch the languages switch.  
Once, while looking for the flour, he had found a wooden spoon with a hand shaped burn mark on the handle. She had apparently forgotten to not use her spell-casting hand before picking it up. Realizing what had happened, he laughed under his breath and chose a different utensil. She spent a lot of time in the kitchen, completing various projects around her home, and he had always seen her move fairly quickly. Now he saw the consequences of her speed.  
Lucien moved back to the counter, idly stirring the batter.  
“What spices does your mother put in her bread?”  
An exasperated sigh came from behind a barrel. Runa stood up, irritated.  
“You knew I was here the whole time?”  
“Of course.”  
“How? I was so careful!”  
“If you recall, I spend a good amount of time with your mother.”  
“And?”  
“So I know exactly how she moves when she’s being quiet.”  
“What’s that got to do with me?”  
“Who taught you how to be stealthy?”  
Runa contemplated a moment.  
“Ooh. Okay, I should’ve planned for that.”  
Lucien laughed, never lifting his gaze from the bowl.  
“So?”  
“So what?”  
“What spices?”  
“Oh! Uh...I don’t know what it’s called, but-” She stood on her toes to reach a jar on the shelf. “-this one.”  
“Thank you. Now, what do you need?”  
“Huh?”  
He sighed. “You have the memory of your mother too. Why were you hiding in here? I assume it was not to just spy on me.”  
“Oh, right. I had a question.’  
“You hid...to ask me a question?”  
“Well, just walking in here seemed boring!”  
Lucien wholeheartedly laughed this time.  
“What’s so funny?” Runa put her guard up, getting defensive.  
“No no, it’s just…”  
“What?”  
“Sometimes you and your siblings act so much like your mother that I can barely believe you are not part of her bloodline.”  
“Well she would’ve had to have me pretty young if she was!”  
Lucien glanced over at her, curious. “How old are you?”  
“I’m eleven, why?”  
“And how old your mother?”  
“Uhm, she guesses, but we think she’s around 32.”  
“I never thought about her age.”  
Runa smiled evilly. “Do you prefer older women, Lucien?”  
The speed at which he threw the spoon at her head was impressive, but she ducked just in time to watch the spoon batter scatter on the back wall. She giggled as he nonchalantly picked up another spoon and kept stirring.  
“How old are you, Lucien?”  
“Um, if you haven’t noticed, quite a few centuries.”  
“Okay, okay, I had that coming. How old WERE you?”  
“I believe I was 40.”  
“Do you want me to ask her if she’s into older men?”  
Another spoonful of batter launched at her, and flew centimeters from her eye.  
“How would you like to have to be silent for a week?”  
“You can’t ground me, you’re not my mom!”  
“Ooohohoh, but I am the appointed ruling force here. Test me, child.” He didn’t fully look at her, but the sliver of the malicious grin she did see made her understand he definitely would follow on his word.  
“Okay, okay, I won’t make jokes about your huge crush on my mom anymore.”  
Lucien just sighed tiredly. “Did you have a real question or not?”  
_Still hasn’t denied it._  
Before Runa could ask anything again, Olva opened the door, smiling almost directly at Lucien.

“She’s home.”  
\--  
Gwendolyn was grateful to see the porch of her house again. The ride home was arduous and tiring, and she had to admit to herself, she very deeply didn’t want to be alone anymore. She slid off the horse, hitting the ground less than gracefully. Before she could even open the door, her children flooded out of them, yelling “Mama!” at the top of their lungs. They all latched to her in a tight circle, and she laughed.  
“I missed you guys too. How’ve you been holding up?”  
“We’re good, Mama, but we think someone has missed you more than us.”  
She raised her eyebrow in confusion, before realizing the joke. “Oh hey now, you think you’re so funny don’t you!” They all laughed watching her flick the forehead of the offender.  
Her heart caught again when she saw him in the doorway, leaning.  
They watched the exchanged glance, released her, and all fled towards the lake to play a game. 

“Lucien!”  
“Hello again, Listener.”  
“I hurried back as fast as I could, how is everything without me?”  
He flicked his eyes off to the side. “I would prefer you to be here than not.”  
“Yeah, me too.” She laughed.


	16. Nightlife

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: death, alcohol, blood
> 
> Summary: Olva learns to keep her mouth shut. Gwendolyn does math.

The tavern was rowdy as always, with loud chatter and smiling faces. The torch sconces had just been relit, and people flooded in by the minute to enjoy the nightlife.   
Olva sat in her usual spot, awaiting her family of friends. Her table was in the corner of the tavern, conveniently located to see every other part of the tavern. Having the kinship of an assassin, one knew not to show their back to an audience.  
Said assassin walked through the door, laughing. Her companion was smiling also, just watching her doubling over over something he said. She peeked up at him and gestured towards Olva, and he nodded, still smiling. She put a hand on his shoulder and said something Olva couldn’t hear, then removed her hand and walked towards her. Whatever she said, he watched her go for a little longer before he turned to go sit, still smiling. As soon as the two left the doorway, her kids flooded in behind them.  
Gwendolyn came to Olva’s table, and took her seat. Her face was rosy and pink, and her eyes had a glow to them that only came with good news.  
“So?”  
“I made the deal. It’s going to work.”  
Olva’s eyes widened, before she leaped out of her seat, cheering.  
“WOOOOOO! It’s going to work! Girl, nothing is impossible with you!”  
Gwendolyn giggled, before shushing her. “Be quiet, you’re going to confuse him!”  
Olva saw the ghost quizzically looking up at her from his book, and quickly took her seat.  
She excitedly whispered. “Okay, what do you need to do?”  
Gwendolyn hesitated. “Well, I have to…”  
“Girl, I know you need to kill people, just tell me how many.”  
“One hundred.”  
Olva whistled. “Wow. That’s, that’s a lot.”  
“Yeah. So now I ask.”  
“Huh?”  
Gwendolyn’s smile was a mixture of malice and mischief, and Olva didn’t know which part unsettled her more.  
“Is there anyone you’d like gone?”  
Olva whistled again, then chuckled. “Well...that’s a lot.”  
“How about you get a pen and paper, and make a list of names and reasons, and I will follow my child to wherever he’s yanking me.” Olva leaned forward to see the girl’s arm being pulled by a blonde little boy.   
She laughed. “Go ahead, Francois, you can have her.”  
Both women stood up, one being dragged to the dancing center of the room, one going towards the office of the house. Olva entered the small room to borrow a sheet of paper, a feather, and an inkwell. She rummaged around the room, listening to the cheery music outside. The pound of feet with the music shook the floor, like the heartbeat of the house. She did really love the tavern at night. Olva idly went towards the door with her paper, but stalling for a moment, she had her own moment of mischief. She cracked the door, and peered through, just in time to watch Gwendolyn and her kids swish by, grinning. What she was really looking for was the ghost, and what she suspected would be a fool’s grin.  
He was sitting at his table, again looking up from his journal. His eyes were barely visible under his hood, but he was definitely smiling.  
Olva chuckled. She knew this ghost by now, and knew that he was an unfeeling brick wall with most people. She had watched him kill bandits without flinching and turn away from strangers’ pleas for mercy. This was a man who almost always had his guard up. She only saw his demeanor switch when she had mentioned the girl returning home. Now, he still was happier than he had been at any time in the last week. His smile fell when he caught Olva’s eye.  
Olva was already on her trouble-making roll. She pointed to him, then pointed to her. He already seemed defensive.  
“Go.” She mouthed.  
He just looked back to his journal, ignoring her.  
“Whoops. I don’t think he likes me anymore.” She told the room.  
She switched targets, watching Gwendolyn dance. The girl was light on her feet, twirling and jumping around her kids, laughing. Gwen flicked her eyes towards her ghost, and frowned when he looked irritated. She flicked her eyes then towards the old woman. Olva quickly held her hands up in a gesture of innocence, but the dancing assassin definitely did not believe her.  
—  
Gwendolyn left the dancers to move towards his table.   
“Hello Lucien.”  
He looked up and closed his book. “Hello Listener.”  
“I have a question.”  
He raised an eyebrow. “Okay.”  
“What did you say your purpose was again?”  
He tried to predict where she was going with this, but her evil smirk threw him off track each time.  
“I’m here to keep you safe and happy.” He raised an eyebrow. “Safe _first_.”  
“I am safe.”  
“Debatable. What’s your point? Your grin worries me, Listener.”  
“So now it’s time to be happy.”  
“...Correct?”  
She held out her hand in an invitation.  
He was wholly unprepared. “What?”  
“Lucien, are you stupid?”  
“This is not the first time you’ve asked and I’m starting to wonder…”  
“Dance with me.” She winked.  
He quickly looked up at her, to her hand. He now realized why she had been grinning so mischievously. This wasn’t just an invitation to the dance floor. She was malicious, yes, but not towards him.  
“If you say no, I’ll order you to.”  
He tried to regain his composure under his hood. _Stop burning. You are a trained assassin, this shouldn’t faze you._ He looked up in time with a small smile, taking her hand.  
“Well, I guess I have to then.”  
—  
Olva had to hold her hand over her mouth and shut the door. This was the best day of her life. _Look at her, she’s so brave. Growing up so fast._ The old woman tried hard not to laugh or squeal, or she knew one of her friendly assassins would undoubtedly visit her and be less friendly.  
She cracked the door again, watching them.

They seemed to be whispering to each other, grinning or rolling their eyes at each other, but she could tell something was different. They were...watching over each other’s shoulders. She also noticed that her kids were out of sight, until they had moved from the wall and in front of her door.  
“Olva, Mom says to stay in there with you.”  
“Oh, okay.” She moved out of their way and they shuffled in. All 7 watched through the crack of the door, and Olva noticed something else that was different. Gwendolyn’s inner wrist was exposed, and she could see 3 long black tally marks. They looked like they were tattooed, but she suspected their source was something a tad darker. _97 to go, I think._  
The kids watched their mother smoothly dance with her counterpart.  
Sofie spoke up. “While this is cute, is the other part necessary?”  
Olva turned. “Other part?”  
Knud rolled his eyes. “Uh, yeah. The other part.”  
Runa was the only one remaining in the doorway, and she shut it. All Olva saw was Gwendolyn’s grin grow into something wicked, and Lucien just flat out disappear.

The screams erupted from outside the door.  
“Oh.”

Olva let out a laugh, and the kids looked at her like she was insane.  
“Kids, your mother is brilliant.”  
“Why?”  
“I saw a poster on the town, advertising that the favorite alcohol of the local gang was in store. Dragon’s mead. Figured that’s why so many people showed up tonight.”  
“So?”  
“She made the poster. There’s been no new shipments in weeks. Girl knows how to start a party.”  
“Why would she do that?”  
Olva pointed outside the door.  
“She lured them here.”  
They looked at each other, realizing their mother’s extent of malice. Not only had she killed most of the tavern’s patrons, she had purposefully planned it.  
Gwendolyn opened the door, wiping the blood off her cheek. Behind her, Lucien faded back to visibility. _I didn’t know he could do that. I should keep my mouth shut more often._  
“It’s safe now guys, you can come out.”  
She turned her shoulder past Lucien’s line of sight and pushed up her sleeve to Olva. Her arm had gained more ominous tally marks in her absence. “17. 20 in total. 80 to go.”  
“Hell yeah, girl.”


	17. Twisted Intentions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> This is....uhm. Okay.  
> tw: lots of death, blood, etc.
> 
> Song: Paris in the Rain, by Lauv.
> 
> NOTE: This place and the group of people only exist in this universe for this one moment. Otherwise, nothing has changed. :)
> 
> Summary: Gwendolyn is still very much an assassin.

The temple was wide and open, built into the mountains of Markarth. Its walls were smooth, cream white, and had the tell-tale cracks of age. They stood straight and noble, emulating the mountain of which they were borne of. The trees lacing the sides serenely swayed in the breeze, lush and green. Their long branches reached out, contrasting to the white of the house’s walls. Their leaves scattered among the steps of the temple, gliding through the air and landing gracefully on the polished white stone. The morning sun painted the sky an airy golden, curving over the mountain, casting soft shadows on the ground and accentuating the temple’s detailed architecture. The breeze carried blossoms into the wind, light and refreshing. The only noise was the sound of the leaves scratching the surface they landed on before leaving the mountainside.

Gwendolyn watched the temple from a distance, admiring its scenery before inevitably entering. Her long dress danced with the wind as it passed by, rustling the layers of white skirts. Her sleeves rustled with the breeze, as thin as the breeze itself. They drew no attention, and hid what needed to be hidden. Her quiet smile held the knowledge of an elder, the amusement of a child, and the trickery of a devil.   
She approached the temple.  
\--  
The keeper of the temple turned to the noise of her light footsteps. He smiled, eager to be friendly to the mystery woman.  
“Hello, miss! Are you here for the morning, uh, sermon? For lack of better term.”  
Gwendolyn shifted her gaze to the young bosmer. She observed his cloth and bowl of water, and the wet marks on the pews he cleaned. He couldn’t have been more than 17, she could tell.  
“Yes. Tell me, do you know when it starts?”  
“Hmm, 9:30, ma’am.”  
“And what time is it now?”  
“Should be just about 9.” He smiled.  
“Thank you, what is your name?”  
“Um, Navih, ma’am.”  
“Okay, Navih, do you mind if I walk around before it starts?”  
“Of course, go ahead!” He grinned. “Ma’am.”  
Gwendolyn chuckled. “I appreciate your formality.” She walked halfway down the empty aisle, before turning back to the teenager. “Navih?”  
“Yes ma’am?”  
“Would you do me a small favor?”  
He thought about it, before playfully grinning. “I guess that depends, ma’am.”  
Gwendolyn smiled thoughtfully. “Smart answer. When the..." She did air quotes, "...'sermon' starts, I’d like you to stay out of the temple for a moment. Enjoy the view for a little bit, then I will let you know when it’s okay to come in, alright?”  
The teenager looked at her quizzically, but she was persuasive, and he felt himself nodding his head before he even thought about it. “I won’t say no to a break, especially if it’s an order from a guest.” He smiled again. “Just don’t keep me waiting long!”  
She twisted her enchanting voice further, making direct eye contact. “No matter what you hear, stay outside. Understand?”  
He only blankly gazed at the woman with the magic voice, nodding again. “I understand, ma’am.”  
She broke eye contact, releasing him. “Good boy.” The young elf shook his head confusedly and went back to wiping off the pews.  
Walking further down the aisle, she shifted the sleeve of her dress, revealing the lip of a black bottle along her index finger. She approached the large ornate bowl on the altar, thoughtfully tracing the edges of it. Her fingers glided along the rim, and no one was there to observe the dark liquid dripping from her finger into the water. It made contact with the clear water, before losing its color and quickly mixing in. Untraceable.  
When she was finished “admiring” the bowl, her hands clasped, lightly corking the small hidden bottle. She shifted down from the altar, down to the intricately carved walls, moving amongst them as their silent observer. Running her finger along the ridges and gaps, she noticed some citizens starting to enter and take their seats. They were all finely dressed, wearing different signs of their different nobilities. They chatted idly amongst themselves, obviously regular attendees. Each of them had their own personal goblet, each jeweled or decorated.  
Gwendolyn held her laughter and took a seat in the back, near a corner.  
\--  
The ‘worshippers’ were all seated, and a hush fell over them when an elf in dark robes entered the room. Gwendolyn watched the crowd turn, eager to hear whatever this man had to say. She flicked her gaze to the doorway, where the young bosmer slipped out, silent. _Good boy._

The elf began.  
“Fellow Thalmor, the time has come for us to assert our rightful place in this province.”  
Heads nodded in agreement, and a few cheers went up.  
“We must take it back from the wretched failures, the shells of men that run it now. The fakers, the pathetic weaklings.”  
The crowd got more involved. More shouts went up. Gwendolyn patiently observed from her seat, unmoving and coldly smiling.  
“We MUST take what is rightfully OURS, rise UP my fellow Thalmor!” As the elf got wilder, so did the crowd. HIs volume and use of hand gestures seemed to be exactly what this lot wanted.   
“But before we begin our valiant quest to wipe the muck of the face of Nirn, we must DRINK!” The priest lifted the bowl, raising it above his head in triumph. “Drink to your strength, bless-ed by the Aedra themselves, we must drink to be strong! They will not defeat us if we unite! We must perservere!”  
The crowd raised their goblets in cheers.  
Gwendolyn carefully stood, moving along the wall to just inside the door. She wanted to see this play out.

The room was so thick with excitement, the crowd all holding their breath to drink their “bless-ed” water, that they didn’t notice the intruder on their sermon. The elf just walked up and down, pouring it into their waiting goblets, and giving some encouraging words to the patrons as he passed.  
Once the elf had returned to the altar, he filled his own glass, and turned to the crowd.  
Gwendolyn smiled darkly.  
“WE DRINK TO OUR FUTURE VICTORY!”  
They lifted their glasses, and downed it all.  
She could see their faces change immediately.  
Their faces contorted, like they’d eaten something sour, then the primal rage filled their eyes.   
She watched as they tore into each other, tooth and nail. Feral elves brought fire to their hands, lighting their own ancient banners. They pounced on their neighbors, burying daggers into hearts and rib cages and eyes and anything their blade could touch. The temple collapsed into heated chaos. _Bless-ed Frenzy._  
As she moved, blood trailed down the aisle like an intricate lace, mixing with the white of her skirts. She exited the arched doorway, leaving the doors open. The screams mixed with the light whistling of the breeze, and the red-touched hems of her skirt swayed. The light of the fires lit her from behind, setting the edges of her in an orange flame. She was a truly terrifying sight. The bosmer boy turned from the view, startled by the screams. His eyes fell on her, and his face turned white with fear.  
“M-ma’am? Wha’s happened?”  
“Nothing you need to worry about, dear. Your shift is over, you can go on home.”  
He shakily nodded, before sprinting down the mountain road, into the lower city. His footsteps pounded the cobbled road as he left.  
Gwendolyn moved to the edge of the mountainside, watching the sun rise on the sleepy city.  
She watched her arm, sleeve pushed up. As every scream abruptly ended, a black tally mark took its place.

Once again, the temple was silent. 

She removed the bottle from her finger and set it down on the polished steps, before calmly descending the mountain road.  
Dragging a finger across every tally mark, Gwendolyn smiled.  
“40 to go.”


	18. Lookout

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> NOTE: Can't believe I'm actually out here doing this but whatever. You'll either squeal or puke. Hopefully not both.
> 
> Song: Paris in the Rain, by Lauv
> 
> Summary: Lucien is technically a Speaker, but he's going to regret ever having opened his mouth.

The house was quiet, and the torches were put out. The only light was the ghost wandering around, trying to figure out where his Listener had fallen asleep. He usually found her in odd places, falling asleep in the middle of an activity, and he either covered her in a blanket, or got Cicero to pick her up and move her. He had shifted through most of the rooms except the kids’ bedroom and the library. She sometimes fell asleep at the desk in the library but she was not to be found there, so he moved into the kids bedroom, trying not to wake any of them up. All of the kids were accounted for in their beds, and he recognized the lump in the shadows next to the bookcase to be his two companions.   
Cicero was at least a head and a half taller than her, so she was leaned into him with her knees up to her chest. His head was leaned onto her, arms draped over the side. They were like sleepy puzzle pieces, and Lucien held back his deep chuckle. _Cute._ He stood up to get a blanket off the bed, and returned with a white cotton one he had seen her cover Cicero with. Tucking the corners of the blanket in each’s opposite shoulder, he smiled. It was a privilege to see someone so dangerous, so feared, in such a vulnerable position. They were both seemingly in deep sleep, so he assumed he was safe to peck their foreheads goodnight and get away with it. He laughed quietly. A dangerous game to play, but worth it. The last time he done that, it was with Ocheeva and Teinaava in their childhood. Two of his favorite assassins then, two of his favorite assassins now. He shook his head of his memories, and leaned forward to both of the assassins. Neither of them moved in response. Once he left the door, he had remembered what Gwendolyn had said on the carriage.  
She is afraid of sleeping without a lookout.   
He looked back at the door.  
—  
The sun started leaking through the window, quietly waking up the woman of the household. She opened her eyes, not remembering where she was. Without moving, she noticed Cicero was asleep in her lap, as usual. She also noticed she was leaning on somebody, and flicked her eyes to her right. Lucien was sitting next to her, not moving the shoulder she was on, and quietly writing in his journal.  
She didn’t really want to get up, so she pretended to be asleep for a little longer, watching Lucien's pen swirl around in his paper. It was the first time she had ever seen his journal, since he only wrote in it when she wasn’t around. They were seemingly entries addressed... to her? She widened her eyes, never actually having wondered what was in his journal before. He closed the book before she could read any, and he carefully turned his head towards her. She froze. _Shoot, did I give myself away?_ He didn’t, only reaching out his hand to pet Cicero’s head, whispering “shhh” calmly. She was so preoccupied by the fear that he had caught her to even realize Cicero was lightly whimpering and shaking. The ghost stroked the side of the jester’s head, whispering again.  
“Shhh, it’s okay. You’re okay.”  
Cicero quieted down almost immediately. _Lucien, do you have any flaws? Or do you just do stuff like that and disappear? I’m convinced you don’t have flaws._  
Gwendolyn kept her eyes down to conceal her mischief (and awareness). What could she get away with for being “asleep”? She slowly shifted her arm and wrapped it around his. He looked down at her, but didn’t catch on and very lightly chuckled, still watching how much he moved.  
His head still tilted down at her, he whispered, “I'm glad you know you are safe with me, Listener.”  
Gwendolyn smiled lightly. He was right, she did feel very safe. In between him and Cicero, there really wasn’t better protection. She shifted further into his arm. He put aside his book and put his chin on top of her head.  
“If you asked, I would stay here for a hundred years.”  
Gwendolyn tried hard not to flinch, but just couldn’t contain herself.  
“Would you?”  
He froze. “How...long...have you been awake?”  
She looked up at him, giggling at his dark blue face. He was frozen to the spot, a mixture of fake irritation and embarrassment.  
“You’re right.” She moved her head back to where she had been.  
“...Huh?”  
“I do feel safe with you.”


	19. Fool

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: abuse mention, death
> 
> Summary: Gwen has a very low tolerance for bad spouses. VERY low.
> 
> Note: she's so dramatic

The night air was not cold, but actually quite inviting. The air refreshed her lungs, taking a deep breath in. The sky was clear, and the moons were bright. The stars twinkled in the dark blue like dancers. She closed her eyes and smiled. If the gods of night knew what she was to do tonight, they most definitely approved. It was beautiful, and she almost didn’t want to go in. She cast a glance at the door of the house, and closed her eyes again.

She was back in the street again. The sun was high, and the flowers bright, the summer season in full swing. The market was at its most active hour, and people bustled around the booth with their smiles.  
“Ah, Varna! I haven’t seen you in ages!” Gwendolyn smiled.  
The young woman at her booth turned, pushing her blonde hair over her shoulder.  
“Gwen! You’re here! It’s so good to see you! I heard a certain someone was in town today, but I didn’t believe the rumors.”  
“I see you followed my advice then?”  
“Yes, I shrugged off every rumor I heard. Much more relaxing, I have to say, but it didn’t get me far this time! You should’ve told me!”  
“Aah, but see, I wouldn’t have been able to make my grand entrance then?”  
Varna giggled. “That is true. Come here! Tell me one of your stories, enchantress.”  
Gwendolyn laughed, and approached the booth. As she neared the young woman, she put a hand on her shoulder, to which the woman flinched. Varna grimaced in pain from the contact, but as soon as it came, it went, and she put back on her fake smile.  
“Oh, I’m sorry, are you hurt? Let me see…” Gwendolyn carefully shifted the girl’s dress to reveal her wound, and brought up her right hand, swirling the healing light around her fingers. Varna jumped and backed away, but she had already seen. Varna yanked her sleeve up with her left hand, and Gwendolyn fit the pieces together immediately. On her hand was a sleek golden ring with a single jewel.  
“When did you get married?”  
“A month ago, I’m sorry I didn’t invite you, but he wanted a private ceremony.”  
Her heart fell. In that moment Varna had never seemed so fragile. The way her eyes darted around and her hands shook, they tore away her confidence like a parasite. This was not the rosy-cheeked, bright-eyed Varna Gwendolyn had befriended. This was a shell of the girl she had once known, and her rage boiled in her veins like a fire.

The bruise was hand-shaped.

Gwendolyn opened her eyes, and exhaled with the night’s breeze. With the newly-reborned malice, Gwendolyn approached the door. The lights were on inside, and she only hoped the girl was asleep. She knocked on the door.  
The door swung open, and a large man growled at her. She stood her ground with a cold smile.  
“Do you know what hour it is?”  
Gwendolyn only met his eyes. “And yet, you seem to be awake.”  
The man’s eyes narrowed. “What are you here for?”  
“I am here to talk. May I come in?”  
He growled again, but stepped aside. “Make it quick.”  
Gwendolyn’s smile only grew, and she entered the house. She stood in front of the fireplace, watching its flames move as he shut the door and took a seat. His eyes were on her back, she could feel it.  
“Why did you let me in?”  
“What?”  
“Do you not fear me as a threat to you?”  
The man’s low laugh rumbled throughout the house.  
“You are tiny. I could snap you in half if I wanted. No, I do not fear you.”  
“Do you think me weak?”  
“You carry no weapons. Everyone carries weapons. You are a fool to think of yourself as dangerous without something to protect yourself with. If anything, you should fear me as a threat.”  
Gwendolyn folded her hands in front of her, out of his sight.   
“Ah, I see. Like your wife does?”

The tension in the air thickened with every second. The man did not answer, but Gwendolyn could hear his chair shift, and his shadow envelop her. She turned in time to watch him bring up his clenched fist, but he had not anticipated her move. Her smile turned wicked, and she revealed her hand, with a sickly pale green light centering in her palm.   
Quickly clasping the light, she laughed. It shot out from in between her fingers and the remnants of the power flew to him.  
“Freeze.”  
\--  
Her sadistic laughter filled the air as he fell to the ground, frozen in his pose.  
“Dear sir, the tables have turned. You are a fool.”  
His eyes darted around hurriedly, his face stuck in his angry glare.  
“I never leave home without a weapon, because you see,” Gwendolyn gestured lightly to herself. “I am a weapon.”  
She kneeled next to him, watching his eyes fly in fear.  
“Oh, but my friend you are still mistaken, I can hear your thoughts now. I did not come here for your money. I am not a thief of material goods. I am a thief of life.”  
His eyes flew back to her, watching her every move.  
“I will not burn you in my arcane fire. You are not a wizard. I will not skin you with a dagger. You are not an assassin. You are however…” She slowly took off her gloves, laying them gently on a table. “A wife-beater.”  
Her laughter again filled the air, like a poison. “Do you know what that means, my friend?”  
She tilted her head over her shoulder, facing the fire again and grinning madly. Whether with anger or insanity, he did not know. He feared both.  
“I am going to beat you to death, with my bare hands.”  
Walking over to his frozen body, she kneeled again. The man's eyes were watery, and tears fell out of the corner of his eyes. The shell has been broken, and now we see the weakness.  
“Tell me, do you fear death?”  
The spell was weakening, but not fast enough. All he got out was a small nod of his head.  
“Ah, so you are a liar as well? You fear death, but you said you do not fear me. Did you not see? Did you not make the connection?” Her hands molded to fists. “Dear friend, I am your reckoning.”  
\--  
On the ride home, Gwendolyn watched her forearm patiently. Shadowmere strolled down the road, knowing there was no hurry. The trees swayed and the breeze whistled, no one but them in the area.  
She laughed, watching the tally mark emerge.   
“Okay, we can go home.”


	20. Believer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Serana doesn't shut up.

“Sit still, Cicero! I won’t ask again.”  
The jester grumbled, but complied. “Is this REALLY necessary, Listener?”  
“Hush. Of course it is. I’m almost done.”  
She dipped the brush in the water and combed through his hair one more time, working out the knots. He was very obviously frowning, sitting on the stool in front of her.  
The dark-haired girl leaned on the table, watching the two bicker and laugh. She took a sip from her cup, turning her top lip deep red.  
“Hey Gwen, you said you had something to tell us?”  
Gwendolyn nodded. “I do, and I can tell you guys after I finish with Cicero. If he would stop MOVING.” Cicero loudly groaned in response.  
“Hey Serana?”  
The girl looked at her over the brim of her cup. “Mhmm?”  
“Can you keep a secret?” Gwendolyn raised her eyebrow, corners of her mouth turning up in a mischievous grin.  
The girl slammed her cup down, and leaned forward with a grin on her face. “Girl, spill.”  
Gwendolyn laughed, putting down the brush and giving Cicero a towel.  
“Wait a second,” she turned to Cicero. “Keeper, can you keep a secret?”  
Cicero’s eyes widened, before jumping up and down. “Yes! Cicero can, Listener! It’s in Cicero’s name! Keeper! He can, he can!” He leaned down to whisper in her ear. “Who are we keeping it from?”  
Both looked at Gwendolyn, who wouldn’t make eye contact. Her smile was wrinkled, and she looked nervous.  
“Um..”  
“Spit it out, Gwen.”  
“Well neither of you can tell Lucien.”  
Serana stood up and gasped. “Oh my god, I knew it.”  
“I haven’t said anything yet!!”  
“No but I knew it!”  
“I’m pretty sure you don’t!”  
Cicero’s eyes darted from Gwen to Serana, both yelling.  
“Cicero does not know the secret, what is happening?”  
Serana was bouncing up and down, leaping off her chair and whooping. “I knew it! I knew it! I knew it!”  
“Serana, get down! Someone will hear you!!”  
Serana froze in place. “He’s not HERE is he?”   
“No he isn’t, but-”  
Serana continued whooping.  
“What is the secret, Listener?”  
Serana ran up to him and grabbed his shoulders, yelling in his face. He looked terrified.  
“GWEN. LIKES. LUCIEN.”  
Cicero went quiet, then gasped. He turned, grinning wildly to Gwen. “Really Listener?!”  
Serana turned to her too, evil smirk. “So did I know it or not?”  
Gwen hesitated, wringing her hands.  
“You were right…”  
“What’s that? A little louder?”  
Gwendolyn glared, cheeks on fire. “YOU WERE RIGHT.”  
Serana continued dancing, this time with with the ecstatic jester.  
“HEY!”  
They stopped.  
“There was a reason I was going to tell you!”  
Serana gasped again. “Are you getting married?”  
Gwendolyn rolled her eyes. “Okay well first of all he doesn’t know, so NO. Second of all, he’s a ghost, so NO.”  
“When are we telling him?”  
“We are NOT.”  
Cicero entered this time. “Why not, Listener? Cicero thinks he would be much happier!”  
Gwendolyn put her face in her hands, but then quickly looked back at him, while he was still grinning like a child.  
“What do you mean?”  
Serana shook her by her shoulders. “Oh my god Gwen, He liiiiikes yoooooou!”  
Gwen pushed her off. “Both of you are being weird. He’s a ghost. There’s no way.”  
Cicero giggled. “Oh, there’s definitely a way!”  
“What???”  
“Cicero can tell, dear Listener!”  
She went back to wringing her hands. “What do you mean? Give me an example.”  
Serana counted her fingers. “Okay well reason 1: is nicer to you than everyone else.”  
Gwendolyn shrugged. “Just because I get special treatment doesn’t mean he likes me.”  
“That….that’s the definition of liking people.”  
“Moving ON, next?”  
Serana put up another finger. “Reason 2: He looks at you all the time. Every time I see him, he’s watching you. It’s creepy.”  
“He’s my protector. He’s just trying to make sure I stay alive.”  
“He’s your stalker is what he is.”  
“SERANA.”  
“Don’t worry, it’s cute.”  
“Next? Do you have any actual reasons?”  
She put up another finger. “Here’s a reason you can’t fight. Reason 3: The looks he gives you when you’re not looking.”  
Gwen opened her mouth, but nothing came out. She tried again. “What, uh. What kind of faces?”  
Serana evilly grinned. “The same ones you give him.’  
“I do NOT!”  
“Oh yeah you totally do.”  
Gwendolyn frowned, not making eye contact. “Your reasons are fake.”  
“Cicero has some reasons!”  
She gave a sideways smile.”Okay, Cicero. Prove to me that Lucien apparently likes me. I’ll humor you.”  
“Oh I see how it is. You listen to him.”  
“Hush.”

Cicero put up a finger, imitating Serana. “He poisoned that elf!”

Both girls looked at him, wide-eyed and spoke in unison. “He WHAT?”  
Cicero vigorously nodded. “That elf on the island! I saw him close the bottle.”  
Gwen put together the puzzle in her head. “I thought I had just lost that bottle…..I thought he was just blackout drunk..”  
Serana watched Gwen carefully. “He had it coming.”  
Gwen looked up, easily laughing. “Yeah, yeah he did.”  
“And that’s a pretty good reason.”  
Gwen thought about Lucien stepping in between her and Sero. _Oh boy._ “Next reason.”  
“Ah, she hasn’t shot you down yet, Cicero! Keep it up!”  
He grinned at the praise and put up another finger. Both girls watched him, very still. He already knew more than they'd expected.

“He kissed your forehead goodnight!”

Gwendolyn screamed. Serana collapsed to the floor, rolling around in laughter.  
“CICERO HE _WHAT_ ?!”  
He didn’t honestly know if he was doing good, but he kept going. “Well when we were both asleep, Cicero was trying to sleep, but he wasn’t asleep yet, and Lucien came in and gave us a blanket and-”  
“DO YOU BELIEVE US NOW!?” Serana clutched her stomach, yelling at the top of her lungs and breaking back down into laughter. Gwendolyn only stood and stared at Cicero, gaping with what seemed like either horror or mortification. Her face was bright red, so he guessed mortification. “I don’t know how much clearer we can GET!”  
“I can’t breathe. How am I ever going to breathe again? I can’t breathe.”  
Serana laid on the floor, staring at the ceiling and giggling. “I can’t believe neither of you even noticed. Are we gonna tell him now or what?” She stood up.  
Gwendolyn was shaking, pulling up her sleeve. “I have to wait. I’ve got 37 more people left.”  
Both companions confusedly looked at her. “You what?”  
Gwendolyn looked up at Cicero first. “I made a deal with Sithis.”  
“Listener you what.”  
“To bring him back.”  
“Gwen are you serious.”  
“I have to kill 37 more people.”  
Both of her companions stared at her arm. The tally marks covered it, reaching a little past her elbow each one long and dark. Serana and Cicero looked at each other, each gaping.  
“I can’t believe it. I knew you were impossible, but this…”  
Gwen nodded. “I know. I’m afraid of him knowing while he’s a ghost, because he’ll still be bound to me, and if he doesn’t feel the same I will have to deal with that every time I see him. After the last one...after he’s alive and no longer bound to me...I’ll…confess.” Her face looked sad, like she had low expectations for how it was going to go. She had to admit it, she feared losing him the most. She feared losing him, but his life was more important than her feelings. Still, the thought of losing his friendship sent her heart into her stomach.  
Serana laid a hand on her shoulder. “I think he’s going to beat you to it, girl.”


	21. Snitch

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Note: Please don't translate Gwen's dovahzul i have no idea if it's right
> 
> Summary: They're both dramatic idiots. Road trip!

The room was dusty, with the sunshine filtering through the window. They were losing time. Books were scattered across the room, some half open, some closed and bookmarked. Serana was sorting through a large book, black with an old binding. Cicero was at the bookshelf, picking up another book and sorting it into his pile. Gwendolyn sat in a velvet chair, bent close over a book. They all jumped when she shouted.  
“Zu'u rund nii! ZU’U RUND NII!”  
“Gwen.”  
“I FOUND IT!”  
Serana flew over to her, peering over her shoulder. “Oh my god, Gwen. You did!”  
Cicero jumped up, knocking over several book stacks. “Woohoo! Listener, let’s go KILL SOMEONE!”  
Gwen looked up from it, finger marking the name. She picked up a red bookmark, and picked up the ancient book.  
“Dear Cicero, let’s go kill a lot more than one person.”  
\--  
Lucien stepped through the portal, giving a sigh of relief.  
“Hello Listener.”  
“Hey Lucien, you alright?”  
He nodded, approaching the team of 3 on the porch. They had sacks slung over their shoulder, seemingly packed with books. He raised an eyebrow, but did not ask. “You worry me when you don’t summon me for a few days.”  
“Huh?” Gwendolyn’s eyes searched his face confusedly.  
“I worry something happened to you while I was gone.”  
“Oh.”  
Cicero made a pointed look at Serana. Serana returned his glance, hiding her smirk.  
Gwen tilted her head. “Well I’m okay. Better now, actually.”  
“Why?” Lucien raised his eyebrow again.  
She grinned and winked, brushing past him towards the stable. “You’re here.”

Lucien turned to answer, but he shut his mouth and pulled down his hood, not looking at any of the other followers. Serana was in a mixture of pride and shock, smiling and gaping at the same time. She ran to catch up with her, whispering in her ear,  
“Girl, did I just SEE that? Are you always that brave??”  
“I am totally shaking, don’t let them see. Can you see? I can’t believe I did that.”  
Serana wrapped her arm around her shoulder and looked over her at the others, who were preoccupied in their own conversation. “You should’ve seen his FACE!”  
Gwen flicked her eyes to the ghost, his face covered. “What face was he making?”  
“He’s blushing! Oh my goodness, that was adorable to even just witness.”  
“Oh yeah, he usually does that when I wink at him.”  
Serana gave her an exasperated look. “How did you not know he liked you before??? Really, Gwen? He blushes when you wink at him, he must not be interested? Where is your mind?”  
“I don’t think it means anything.”  
“You STILL don’t?! Girl, I’m convinced he could actually say ‘I’m in love with you’ to your FACE and you’d be like ‘eeeeh. Could mean a lot of things.’ You are SO difficult.”  
Gwendolyn laughed. “The only person I’ll believe is him.”  
“Awww.”  
“SHUT UP.”  
Serana looked over her shoulder again, at the ghost who was looking in their direction. “Hey hey! Don’t yell or I think your lover’ll think I’m a threat and kill me!!”  
“HE’S NOT MY ohnoheslookingatme.” Gwen lowered her voice into an angry whisper. “He’s not my lover!”  
Both girls were giggling, playfully slapping each other’s arms in fake anger.  
Lucien paused, watching them. They looked like sisters, with the same short height and dark black hair. Gwendolyn’s hair was down, something she only did when she was relaxed. Her smile was light and carefree, and she caught his eye, with the same grin on her face, before strolling towards the stables again, counterpart in tow. He gave a small smile in return. _Every day I get worse at hiding it. One of these days I’m just going to accidentally actually tell her, and unsummon myself. Even if “unsummon” means shoving my own dagger in my stomach. Actually no, If I slip up that bad, I’d prefer that way. My foolish hope will defeat me._  
Cicero leaned into Lucien’s ear.  
“Cicero has a question.”  
Lucien turned, maintaining his neutral expression. “What’s your question, Cicero?”  
“It’s a very big question, but Cicero promises not to tell.”  
He raised an eyebrow, “Okay…?”  
Cicero whispered into his ear, watching his face.  
“Does Lucien like the Listener?”  
Lucien stepped back. _Even the Keeper has noticed??? I am too far gone to fix this now. What’s yet another brick off my wall? It was falling anyways._  
Lucien sighed inwardly.“You swear to secrecy?”  
Cicero leaped, not expecting an actual answer, “Yes! Yes he does!”  
Lucien shut his eyes, grimacing. “Yes. I do.”  
Cicero danced around, grinning. “Cicero knew it! He knew it! You’ve   
GOT to tell the Listener! Go! Right now!”  
“What? NO! Keeper, release me! I will do no such thing.”  
“Why not?”  
“She does not like me in the same way, it would just ruin our friendship.”  
Cicero fake-yawned. “Cicero has heard this story before. It is still not true.”  
“What? From who?”  
“Nope! No spilling, Cicero promised to keep that secret!” He mimed locking his mouth shut.  
“Oh come on, NOW you shut up??”  
Cicero fidgeted, “Well...Cicero can’t say anything important, but he thinks you should REALLY tell the Listener.”  
Lucien struggled to keep his composure. _What does he know? Does he know something about Gwendolyn? Did she tell him something? Or is it just speculation? It’s probably speculation. I should disregard it, but I can’t. Foolish hope._  
“BOYS! Are ya coming?” Serana leaned out of the stable doors. Cicero sprung along, Lucien in tow.  
—  
The carriage bumped along the road, 4 travelers as the cargo. The afternoon sun was getting older, warming up the sky and cooling down the air. Cicero was asleep on Gwendolyn’s lap, as per usual on long rides. She idly combed through his hair, chatting with the ghost and the vampire on the other side.  
“Listener, I forgot to ask, where are we going?”   
Gwendolyn looked up at him. Well, I can’t tell you exactly why we’re going, but I can give you a location.  
“We’re going to Solitude.”  
Lucien nodded thoughtfully. Throughout the time they’d known each other, Gwendolyn learned to pick up on the small changes in his facial expressions. When he turned to look at the road ahead, he slightly turned the corner of his mouth upward, in the smallest of smiles. She knew what that was, and it made her a little nervous. The last time he’d done that, he tried to cheer her up by turning invisible and reappearing over people’s shoulders to scare them. He was planning something mischievous.  
Without turning his head, he asked, “What are we doing there?”  
 _How do I be just vague enough for this? The carriage driver can’t know I’m about to kill somebody, and you can’t know why I chose them._  
“We’re,” She looked to Serana for help. Serana finished her sentence, “-going to the library.” She laughed.  
Gwendolyn grinned. “We’re aiding someone in their….study of the after life.”  
Lucien’s low laughter rumbled. “Are we?” His smile grew into a wicked grin. “I think I can help with that…” He met her eyes and winked.  
Gwendolyn quickly looked at the road, trying to distract herself, but her face was heating up. _He did that on purpose! He did that on PURPOSE!!! By the divines, girl, pull yourself together!_ She was most likely a deep red now, and he chuckled.   
_Oooh nooooo. He won._  
She flicked her eyes back to Serana, who was leaning back in her seat. She was grinning, and making heart motions with her hands, just out of his sight. Gwendolyn glared daggers at her.   
She shifted her attention back to Cicero, who had his grip on her shirt.   
Her face crumpled into worry. The jester’s grip tightened, and he whimpered lightly. Nightmares, again. She gently took off his hat and began stroking his head. Her voice softened.  
“Cicero. It’s okay, Cicero. You’re safe, it’s okay. Shhhh…” He squeezed his eyes shut, tear tracks forming. _This is a bad one._ She cradled his head closer to her as his whimpers grew. She looked up to Lucien in concern, both of them thinking the same thing. Whatever he was seeing, he was deeply afraid of it.   
He quickly moved to her side, wiping his tears and moving the hair out his face. Both of their faces were etched with worry, looking down at the jester in her lap. After a few minutes of reassurance, Cicero’s grip loosened, and his whimpering stopped. He returned to clear sleep, hand still wrapped around her shirt. Both Gwen and Lucien sighed in relief, close together.  
“You guys look like his parents.”  
Gwen looked up at her. “Huh?”  
“You two,” Serana gestured to them. “You act like his parents.”  
They looked at each other surprised, before Gwen answered.  
“We do make a pretty good team.”  
Lucien’s eyes widened, slightly bluer. She giggled. _Payback._


	22. Confidante

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Serana and Lucien have a nice chat.

The curve of the hill gave away to the rise of the city. Solitude’s walls raised high, touching the sky with their roofs. The stars lit the silhouette of the buildings as they neared closer. Serana leaned back in her seat, looking towards the horizon, occasionally flicking her eyes towards the ghost, carefully tending his two companions. Cicero remained in Gwendolyn’s lap, and Gwendolyn was asleep on Lucien’s shoulder. He moved his head towards the road, and back towards the sleeping assassins. An irritated look passed his face.  
Serana sat up. “Is something wrong?”  
He shook his head. “No no, it’s just last time I was in this position I…” He grimaced. “...embarrassed myself.”  
Serana laughed. “What’d you do?”  
“Oh wouldn’t you like to know? Forget it.”  
“I really would. Come on, if Gwen knows, I probably know already.”  
He looked up toward the sky, exasperated. “I haven’t shut my mouth yet, why start now? I thought she was asleep, but she apparently had woken up and just not moved, and she heard me tell her-“  
“Oh my goodness, did you-“  
“Let me finish.”  
She sat forward, miming a lock on her lips.  
“I…” He dragged his free hand over his face and groaned. “I told her that I was glad she knew she was safe with me…”  
Serana threw her head back. “That’s ADORABLE!!! I can’t believe you, ghost with no feeling, did that.”  
Lucien pinched his nose, “And…”  
“AND?!”  
“That if she asked, I would stay there for a hundred years.”  
“AWWWWW.”  
“You’re going to wake them up.”  
Serana slapped her hand over her mouth. “Awwww. I knew you had a crush on her but I didn’t know you were in love with her!”  
He immediately glared at her. “I am NOT.”  
Serana snickered. “Oh yeah, you totally are. I can see it in everything you do. You’re lucky.”  
His glare subsided in confusion. “I would not consider my position lucky.”  
She raised an eyebrow, grinning slyly. “So you admit you’re in that position?”  
He groaned. “Maybe someday I will learn to just not speak. Just tell me what you know.”  
Serana pointed to Gwen. “Maybe make sure she’s asleep first.”  
Lucien looked at the sleeping woman, lightly whispering. “Liiiistener.”  
She didn’t flinch.  
Serana leaned down. “Her eyes are closed. She’s out.”  
He nodded. “Tell me what you know.”  
Serana cast a glance at her again, before leaning in, elbows on her knees. _Don’t worry, girl. I’ve got your back._  
“Okay, so Gwendolyn is like my sister. I know how she acts around different people.”  
He lowered his eyebrows. “As do I. Tell me something useful.”  
“You don't know how she acts when YOU aren’t around, dummy. That’s my point.”  
He rolled his eyes. “Fair enough. Go on.” While they were talking, Gwen had wrapped her arm around Lucien’s, still asleep. He looked down at her, slightly smiling. Serana smirked, and he glanced up, smile falling. His glare was threatening.  
“Okay, okay, I’ll stop.”  
“Good.”  
“But that’s a good example for what I was saying. She completely trusts you.”  
“I assume she would trust you the same way.”  
“Absolutely not.”  
His eyes widened. “Are you certain?”  
“I’m going to be completely honest. This is one of the only times I’ve ever seen her sleep.”  
“What do you mean?”  
“She never sleeps where anyone can get to her. If she willingly sleeps near you, even ON you? She definitely likes you.”  
He glanced down at her thoughtfully. “So she trusts me. Good, but that doesn’t prove anything.”  
_I can’t tell him that she thinks he’s cute. Or what she’s doing just to have him alive, despite not knowing if he’ll stay with her._  
“I actually have a question.”  
He didn’t move. “Okay.”  
“Do you ever miss being alive?”  
He hummed. “Sometimes.”  
“What about it?”  
“I miss feeling warm and cold, eating, sleeping, and..” He looked at her hand, very gently wrapped around his arm. “I wish I could sometimes help her more. I’m not entirely solid. I can’t pick her up. I can’t hug her like she does Cicero. I can’t do a lot of things.”  
Serana nodded. _Stoic assassin with no feelings is sad he can’t hug her. Oh, you’ve got it bad, my friend._  
“Let’s say you were alive.”  
“Impossible, but okay.”  
_Yeah, that’s what I thought. Meet Gwendolyn._  
“You wouldn’t be bound to her anymore.”  
He frowned.  
“Would you still stay with her, or would you go start your life elsewhere? You used to live in Cyrodiil, right? Would you go back there?”  
His frown deepened. “No.” His eyes moved to her again. “Dead or alive, I wouldn’t leave her.”  
She tried not to “aww”.  
“She’s the Listener. Even in life, my duty is to her. She's also…” He looked up, stone faced. “No. I wouldn’t leave her.”  
Serana nodded. “Good. She would be devastated if you did.”  
Lucien shook his head. “She would be fine without me.”  
Serana threw up her hands. “By the gods, she LOVES you. Are you blind??”  
“She doesn’t. Why would she? She could just as easily have anyone, and they’d be alive. I am a ghost.”  
“It never mattered to her.”  
He looked cold and distant. Serana sighed.  
_I can’t convince either of them, but they’ve both confessed. I can’t tell either of them the other has, or I risk losing their trust. I really just have to wait for them to confess to each other._  
Gwendolyn shifted in her sleep, grip tightening on his sleeve. He turned, gently moving the hair out of her eyes with a small smile.  
“Listener, wake up. We’re here.”


	23. Scholar

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: blood, injuries
> 
> Summary: She may be a murderer, but she doesn't kill blindly :)

The team walked into Solitude. The city was asleep, lights off in nearly every house. It was late, and almost noiseless. Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow. Skyrim doesn’t have any large cities, but still. How does everyone in a city go to sleep at the same time?  
They continued on. Past several houses, through alleyways and streets, they snuck through the quiet town.  
Nearing the largest building in the city, Gwendolyn turned, and nodded.  
Lucien disappeared, Serana put her mask up, and Cicero pulled out his blade.  
“Lucien, stick with me. Be silent, touch nothing. Cicero, lead Serana to the window. You remember it?” He nodded. “Good. Lead her to it. Serana, stick with Cicero and wait for my signal. Remember, 2 for enter, 1 for wait-“  
“And none for run. We’ve got this.”  
They nodded to each other.  
Gwendolyn put her hood up. “Let’s teach this elf about the afterlife.”  
—  
Approaching the door, Gwendolyn sighed.  
“The Blue Palace. Heart of Solitude. Heavily guarded. Okay. Lucien?”  
She felt a little tap on her shoulder and nodded in response. 4 heavy knocks on the door, and a pull on her skirt, and she was ready.   
The door swung open. A red-headed man dressed in fine clothes, appeared.  
“Ah, Dragonborn. What welcomes you to our doorstep at...this hour?”  
“Ah, I see you question my timing, but you yourself show no signs of having been at rest, Falk.” She smiled knowingly.  
“Observant as always, Dragonborn.” He gave a joking smile. “The Jarl’s court never sleeps. Come in.”  
She took a second before shifting through the doorway, past the steward. The door was open long enough, he should’ve been able to get in. She felt another tap on her shoulder as the door shut. Still here.  
“So. I know you aren’t here just for me to enjoy your lovely company. What do you need from the Palace?” She inwardly groaned.  
“I’m actually here for your library.”  
“Oh, of course. Let me accompany you there.”  
She smiled, hiding her discomfort. She took his arm, looking ahead.  
“Y'know, the Palace is having a ball next week.”  
“Oh?” As they walked down the hallway, she felt Lucien keep his hand on her shoulder. _I know, I know. You don’t like him. We can’t kill Falk, Luc._ Even then, knowing she wasn’t alone in enemy territory was comforting.  
“You should think about attending. Lots of people will be there, but they’d all pale in front of you, Dragonborn.”  
“I appreciate your praise, Falk, but it’s only a title.” _How far away is the library? Ugh._  
“I understand. Here it is. I hope to see you there, Dragonborn.” He left her arm, and waved his goodbyes. She let out a sigh of relief as soon as he was around the corner. The hand on her shoulder tapped twice.  
“You can speak before we enter.”  
His disembodied voice rang from the shadows. “Who was that?”  
She rolled her eyes. “Falk Firebeard. I had to persuade him so I could get into the city records last month. My enchantment seems to not have worn off.”  
He made a discontented noise.  
“Yeah, I agree. Not my type.” She heard her own mocking voice ring in her head. _Tell him what your type is, Gwen. Tell him you would prefer a 200 year old ghost murderer. Tell him that, Gwen._ She shook her head, clearing her thoughts and slipping into the door.  
The room was lit and warm. Bookshelves made aisles of it, well stocked and well worn. She listened to the rustling of papers, watching a dark blue robe disappearing around a corner. He didn’t know she was here.   
She gathered her dress into her hand, drawing her dagger from underneath. Like a shadow, silent footsteps led her to view of the window. It was pitch black outside, except for the two glowing circles watching her every move. Gwendolyn turned her head around the corner of a bookshelf.  
An elf moved books of varying thickness around his desk, sticking a feather in his inkwell and scrawling notes on a scrap of paper. His blonde hair shifted around his shoulders, a high contrast against his scholar’s robes. He made no movement in her direction, completely oblivious to her presence.   
She looked back to the lights in the window, and winked with either eye. Two for enter. The window slid open, and Serana slid behind the bookcase. Cicero climbed in after her, moving out of view of the elf. They both nodded to Gwendolyn, awaiting orders. She held her dagger behind her back, and folded her hands. Emerging from the bookcase, she entered the aisle in which the elf stood. He did not hear her footsteps getting closer.   
She walked slowly towards him, before finally speaking aloud. “Hello.”  
He turned quickly, startled, and she buried her dagger quickly under his rib cage. She held a hand over his mouth before he could shout, and slowly lowered him to the ground. Her eyes met his, and she held them.  
“Shhhh. Don’t make any noise. Shhhh.” He looked like he hadn’t made 20 years yet, eyes filled with fear, but he complied. Whether it was compliance or shock, she didn’t know. She carefully laid him down, blood slowly dripping onto her dagger and onto his robes, turning it a dark purple. When she removed her hand, he didn’t do anything but release a shaky breath.   
“What did I do wrong?”  
She removed her dagger, and put her hand on the wound. Not enough to make it hurt more, just enough to feel her hand. Her companions watched her from around the corner, curious as to what this kid did to feel her wrath.  
“Shhhh. You did nothing wrong. I just need you to comply. Can you do that?” Her voice was light and gentle, but she wasn’t enchanting him. She was giving him an option to choose obedience instead of forcing it.   
Lucien watched from his shadow. A twisted form of mercy, but mercy nonetheless. A truly deserving bearer of her title.  
The elf nodded, wincing. “I’ll do what you want.” He held a hovering hand over his wound. His voice trembled. “Am I going to die?”  
There was a moment of silence from the Dragonborn, and in its place was the shaky breaths of this dying child. His terrified eyes flicked from figure to figure, looking for something, anything to put his hope in.  
Gwendolyn slowly shook her head. “No. I did not come here to kill you. Your obedience is your life, understand?” Her companions gave each other confused glances. What happened to teaching him about the afterlife? What was she doing?  
Gwendolyn turned to her followers, gesturing for them to emerge.  
“I will keep you alive, but you need to make no noise. Can you do that?” She brought the golden light to her left hand. He nodded, pained.  
“Good. Cicero, can you pick him up? Gently. We need to get him out the window.” Her magic wrapped itself around the elf’s abdomen while she spoke.  
Cicero nodded, and bent down to retrieve him, before moving towards the window. Serana walked in front of him, exiting the window and pulling him through. None of her companions ever asked a question, believing in her method as well as trusting in her. She sheathed her dagger under her skirt, realizing her dress was marked with blood.  
“Not very ladylike. Lucien? It’s safe, come back.” He materialized a few feet away from her.  
“I’m right here.”  
“Good, can I ask a favor?”  
“Always.”   
“Look on his desk and find his letters. We need them. I need to burn this dress and clean the floor.”  
—  
They all finally emerged from the window. Gwendolyn, dressed in black robes, shut the window behind her.  
“Let’s get out of here before Falk decides to check up on my ‘studies’.”  
They all nodded, tension releasing. Cicero, cradling the elf, looked down at her.  
“Listener, does this one live?”  
“Yes, be gentle with him.”  
“Okay. Why?”  
She sighed. “I know you’re all wondering that. Truth is, I did come here intending to kill him, but I changed my mind. He’s the only one on my list who hasn’t done anything wrong. Hell, he’s too young to even have had the chance. And he’s a scholar. He’d be more useful alive.”  
They looked at each other, and back to her, nodding. They understood.  
Cicero raised his eyebrow. “Then why did you stab him?”  
Gwendolyn’s face darkened, and she moved towards the road.  
“If he depends on me, he won’t run.”


	24. Obedience

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Gwen gets some mildly concerning good news

The table was covered in letters, and the elf sat in front of them, staring at them like they were incriminating evidence.  
“Okay. Here’s the deal. You’re going to tell me where your family is.”  
“What?”  
“Your relatives. I need to know where they are.”  
The elf hesitantly nodded. “I don’t know why you’d want to know, but you’ve kept your word so far and I’m still alive.”  
Gwendolyn nodded. “I appreciate your cooperation. Who are your living relatives?”  
The elf looked up, thoughtful. “My family tree isn’t large. My living relatives are my aunt, my uncle, my father, a few of my cousins, I think 3….that’s all I can think of.”  
Gwendolyn looked down at her book. “That’s all of them. Good. You tell the truth. Do you know where they live?”  
He tilted his head. “I think I do. I’ll try my best.”  
She gave a sideways smile. “Okay. Tell me.” Her hand rested on a blank sheet of paper, feather in hand.  
“My aunt lives in Dawnstar, My uncle and cousins live in Windhelm. My father lives in Winterhold. The college.”  
She scrawled the locations next to the titles on her paper, then transferred names next to the title from her book. She had a copy of Skyrim’s census from Solitude’s archives, lovingly stolen.  
The young elf looked at her, hesitating. “Ma’am?”  
“Yes? Are you in pain?” Her hand flared up in question.  
“No no, I’m fine, thank you. I had a question.”  
Gwendolyn glanced towards the floor. “...Go ahead.”  
“Why do you want to know? About my family?”  
She kept her eyes on the floor, forming the correct sentence in her head. Her pained look must have given it away.  
“You’re killing them.”  
She looked up, sympathetic. _I don’t regret their deaths, but I regret that you had to know. And help._  
“Are you?”  
“..Yes.”  
“I’ll help you.”  
She glanced up, shocked. “What? You want to help...kill your family?”  
His young face was creased with a vengeance no one could fake. “Yes. Absolutely.”  
She raised her eyebrows, but laughed in relief. “That makes it easier.”  
—  
Gwendolyn walked out of the room, papers in hand. Her followers at the table watched her sit down, quieting their conversation.  
Serana spoke first. “So? Did he spill?”  
Gwendolyn laughed. “Not only did he spill, he’s willing to help.”  
“That’s good.”  
“And he knows we’re killing them.”  
A moment of silence passed, before she turned her head back to Gwen. “What?!”


	25. Traveler

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Gwen gets away with too much!

Gwendolyn walked around the waking house. She picked up things off tables and out of drawers and stuck them in her pack as she moved. The sky leaked through the window, light blue with the very beginnings of dawn. The world was not awake yet, but she was, and she moved with purpose.  
Cicero emerged out of his room, messy hair and wrinkled clothes. He slung his bag on his shoulder, moving in slow motion. His eyes weren’t even open as he packed. Gwendolyn moved in front of him, pushing the hair out of his eyes and straightening his hat.  
“Good morning, Cicero!”  
“Cicero is not sure this counts as morning, Listener.”  
She laughed. “I know. We have a long ride to Dawnstar, you can sleep on the way, alright?”  
He groggily nodded, opening one eye. Gwendolyn smiled, affectionately hugging his midsection. “It’s gonna be a good morning, don’t worry.” After she let go, she sped around him, sticking things in her bag again. Occasionally, she’d put items in Cicero’s, him still too tired to do anything. She grabbed a blanket scarf off a table and swung it around his shoulders.  
“Dawnstar is cold, sweetie. Don’t forget your gloves.” She smiled, adjusting it around his shoulders. He slowly nodded and moved towards a dresser.  
The next person to come through was Serana, who was already fully awake. She shifted around the books on the table, reading their bindings.  
“Did you already get the map?”  
“Not yet, can you?” Gwendolyn said, shifting around something inside a cabinet.  
She nodded. “Yeah, where?”  
“Top shelf. Left.”  
She nodded, disappearing into the library.  
With both companions out of sight, Gwendolyn stopped, swiveling her eyes around the room.

Eerily silent.

“Lucien?”  
The room was still.  
She held back a laugh, grinning. “Are you hiding from me?”  
Silence. She stalked around the room carefully.  
“Well, I guess since he’s not here, I’ll read his journal.”  
One step towards the bookcase and he appeared an inch from her face, narrowing his eyes. She flinched, but kept her evil smile, knowing she’d won. He tilted his head, smirking.  
“Was that a threat, Listener?”  
Serana walked into the doorway, saw the two, and walked straight back in.  
“Depends on if you’re hiding something, Lachance.”  
“There’s nothing in that book you don’t already know or couldn’t figure out.”  
“Oooo, is there something I haven’t figured out?”  
He flicked his eyes to the bookcase. _Bad choice of words, Speaker._  
She relaxed, no longer evil. “Whatever it is, I’ll let you tell me. I have to get the kid ready.” Turning on her heel, Gwendolyn moved towards the elf’s room.   
“Listener, wait.”  
Her heart jumped in her throat, but she swallowed it and turned, smiling. “Mhmm?”  
He froze up, meeting her eyes. _I…_  
“I appreciate your respect.”  
“Always.” She winked, leaving his sight.  
He stood frozen in place. Serana peeked out from the doorway.

“If you weren’t a ghost, I’d ask if you were overheating.”  
—  
The carriage was almost completely loaded outside. Everyone minus Gwendolyn moved around the cart, putting in bags and food and whatever else. Dawnstar was a long way away. The sun had begun to show its face around the edge of the trees, but the morning dew was still cold and prominent. Cicero still had the red scarf wrapped around his shoulders, and chuckled when the elf emerged from the front door wearing a different light blue one. His face was wrinkled with surprise.  
“Is she always like that?”  
Lucien didn’t look up. “Like what?”  
The elf toyed with the edge of the blanket scarf, examining it confusedly. “So….motherly?”  
Serana snorted. “Yeah. She is.”  
Gwendolyn hopped out of the door behind them. “Everyone, get in the cart! It’s time to go!”  
They obediently shuffled into the cart, the living less awake than she was. As soon as the cart started forward, passengers seated, she lightly tapped Cicero’s nose. He opened his eyes, frowning in question. Seeing he was awake enough, she handed him a piece of bread and a bottle of milk. He took it.   
“Eat before you go to sleep, alright?” She said.  
He nodded. “Mmmkay Listenerrr.”  
She laughed, passing around different foods to her group. Serana jokingly lifted her bottle of red liquid. “My favorite. Thanks, sis.”  
Gwendolyn turned her head to the newest addition. “What’s your favorite?”  
The elf nervously fidgeted in his seat. “I’m fine, ma’am.”  
“Nonsense, you have to eat! Here, eat this and tell me how you like it, okay?” She set a bowl of something warm in his lap, swaying slightly with the carriage. He looked down at the bowl, then back up at her, halfway smiling. “Thank you, ma’am.” _Yesterday I almost died by her hand...now I’m here._  
She smiled in return. “Don’t call me ma’am. I trust you enough for that.”  
He frowned. “What should I call you?”  
Her hand gestured to Lucien and Cicero, “These two call me Listener, but you aren’t an assassin.” She pointed to Serana. “She calls me Gwendolyn, that’s easier. Do you want to call me Gwendolyn?”  
He tilted his head. “Your name is Gwendolyn? I think I’ve heard that somewhere...”  
She sheepishly smiled, shooting a glance to Serana. “I am...well known.”  
Realization dawned on his face, before he loudly exclaimed.  
“You’re the Dragonborn?!”  
—  
The dark of night settled on the sleepy travelers, pressing on the city of Morthal. They were more than halfway there, but the road was long and cold, and one stop wouldn’t ruin their lives. They walked along the road, the town oddly active and awake for such an hour. Gwendolyn walked, arms linked with Serana, behind the rest of the group.  
Gwendolyn whispered. “I have an idea.”  
“That never ends well.”  
“Oh hush. My ideas saved you. Anyways. I don’t know if kills done by Cicero or Lucien count towards the 100.”  
“Oh, this is DEFINITELY not ending well.” She snickered. “Not for someone else at least.”  
“And they’re too sweet to complain but they’re restless.”  
“For murder.”  
“Can you shut up?”  
Serana smiled jokingly. “I’m just messing with you, continue.”  
Gwendolyn pulled up her sleeve, carefully watching Lucien, 37 marks left to go. “I have 6 planned kills, one that has to be last. That means that I’ve got 31 that aren’t specific. And…”  
Serana raised an eyebrow. “And?”  
Gwendolyn’s malicious grin spread across her face. “I know Morthal would be pleased to not have a local crime gang around. And I know where that gang likes to hang out.”  
“Another? Oh Gwen, I will never tire of you finding a good reason to go on a killing spree. Let’s see if these kills count.”  
Gwendolyn smirked, walking up to the front of the group, hand around the shoulder of each assassin.  
“How would you guys like to destroy a syndicate?”


	26. Broken-Hearted

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Uh oh, that didn't go well.

They stalked the outside of the rowdy tavern. Cicero held his blade to his side, grin evident in the moonlight. Gwendolyn leaned against the wall, dagger ready and pressed out of view of the many windows. She gave a nod to Lucien, who slipped into the door, losing his visibility.  
Inside the tavern, Lucien moved carefully away from anything that could give him away. Lively drunkards threw their limbs about. The route to the bartender was an obstacle course of criminals. He could see her. A redguard girl silently wiping a flagon, keeping an eye on her dangerous patrons. Lucien shifted through the edges, ducking under an arm, evading the flames of the fireplace. Finally he stood behind her, still invisible.  
“Bartender, go into the attic.”  
The startled girl turned, looking for the source of the disembodied voice. “Who are you? Where are you?”  
“Unimportant. Go.” He leaned casually against the column behind the bar.  
She hesitated, before shrugging. “I need a break anyways. When should I come down?”  
He lowly chuckled. “When the screaming stops.”  
Her face lost its color, before she grabbed her towel and fled up the stairs.  
Lucien dodged the rowdy guests before slipping out the door again, regaining his visibility.  
“She safe?”  
“Yep. Just don’t go into the attic intending to kill.”  
She nodded. “Cicero, you get first shot.”  
The jester gave a mad grin, before busting in the door and shoving his dagger in the nearest patron. She heard the shouts, and maniacal laughter, from outside.  
Lucien winked at her. “That’s our cue.” He drew his blade, heading into the tavern.  
She dragged her free hand across her reddening face. _Emotionally compromise me before a fight, will you?_ Exhaling, she entered the building of screams.  
—  
(Song: idontwannabeyouanymore, by Billie Eilish)  
The assassins walked out of the silent tavern, covered in blood. Each of them had their own deathly grin, holding their weapons out to their side.  
“Think it’s time to get Serana and the kid again.” She said.  
Lucien nodded, walking towards the stables. Cicero obediently followed the ghost, expecting Gwendolyn to follow. While she was behind, she pulled up her sleeve.  
_17 criminals, 7 from Lucien, 6 from Cicero, 4 from me. She counted her tally marks with her free hand. I’ve got-_

“Listener?!”

She looked up, startled and guilty, quickly pulling down her sleeve. Lucien had turned around, looking at her arm with fear and confusion. He flew to her, grabbing her arm and shoving up her sleeve again.  
“What is this? These aren’t...These are-! What happened to you? Listener, what did you do?!”  
She stuttered out a reply, unable to form the words. “I-I wait!”  
Lucien’s face was marked with horror and worry. “What are these? Listener, tell me! Tell me!” His grip tightened on her arm, raising his voice.  
She stumbled back, eyes widening. He had never yelled at her before. Her heart had dropped to her stomach in fear.  
“I can’t tell you! Let go of me!” She ripped her arm from his hands, voice shaking. _What have I done? Oh Sithis, what have I done?!_ Her eyes pricked with tears. “I can’t tell you!”  
He looked betrayed, looking at his hands in shock. “What do you mean you can’t tell me?! What are those?!” He searched her face, eyes filled with desperation.  
She backed up again, nearly tripping. Her face was streaked with hot tears, holding her hands in front of her. She didn’t know if she was reaching for him or pushing him away.  
Cicero stood where he was, watching the yelling in shock. He didn’t know which to go to, so he stood frozen in place, face stuck in terror.  
“I mean I can’t tell you!” She screamed.  
The sound of her voice breaking rang in his ears, and he suddenly realized that he had caused it. He had yelled at her. He yelled at his Listener, and now she was afraid of him. He grabbed her arm, and now she was afraid of him. She was backing away because she was afraid of him. She had her hands out, afraid of him. The tears running down her face were because of him, and the fear in her eyes was because of him.  
He suddenly heard Serana’s voice in his head. “She completely trusts you.” He saw the terror in her eyes. _Not anymore. Look what you’ve done._  
The regret filled him. “I- Listener I’m- I’m so sorry. I-”  
With that, he disappeared, turning invisible on the spot.

Gwendolyn collapsed, hand over her mouth and clutching her stomach. Her eyes stared at the place he was, feeling lost. Her cries racked her entire body, bending over until she was crumpled to the ground. Cicero quickly fled to her side, kneeling and holding her.  
She leaned into him, hands tight around the fabric of her collar. Her sobs could be heard from anywhere in the town, but it was silent.  
From around the corner, Serana skidded to a stop. She saw Gwendolyn wrapped underneath the jester, him unable to stop her heartbroken cries. She sprinted to them.  
“What happened to her? Where’s Lucien? I could hear the yelling from the stables! Cicero, where is Lucien?!”  
Gwendolyn stretched out her hand to her. Serana quickly took it, squeezing it and wiping her tears away. Her shattered voice rose from her sobs.  
“Serana I’ve...I’ve lost him. I’ve truly lost him. He’s gone and I can’t fix it.” Her hands tightened, curling in on herself. Cicero moved so Serana could cradle her broken friend.  
Serana wiped her tears and tucked her hair behind her ears, whispering comfort, but the tears only replaced themselves as quick as they’d gone. Gwendolyn desperately grabbed her friend’s sleeve, burying her face in her chest. Serana stroked her hair, chin on her head. “You haven’t lost him. Gwen, what happened? It’s okay. You haven’t lost him. Tell me what happened. You’re okay..shhh.”  
Gwen’s cries continued, her unable to stop long enough to relive the moment.  
“He’s gone.” Her voice broke again, “I’ve lost him forever.”  
Serana frowned. “Shhhh. He’ll come back. You’re okay.” She felt Gwendolyn grip her sleeve, deep in her heartbreak. “Shh, it’s okay. He said he’d never leave you…”  
She slowly slid her arm over Gwen’s shoulder, coaxing her to get up.  
“Cicero, lead me back to the inn. We’re staying the night.”  
—  
Lucien watched them go. As soon as they were out of earshot, he turned and sprinted, not caring where he was going to end up. City gave way to forest, and the trees flew past him in a blur.  
“You absolute IDIOT!” He screamed, invisibility fading away. “YOU HURT HER!”  
His footsteps pounded the underbrush, completely leaving the town behind him.  
“SHE TRUSTED YOU! LOOK WHAT YOU’VE DONE!” The image of her terrified eyes burned into his brain, and he angrily swiped at his eyes.  
Finally reaching somewhere he didn’t recognize, he slowed. His breath was fast and ragged, and his heart was pumping, and he didn’t care to think why it was even possible.  
“I can never go back…” He began, staring into the forest. “I can never....I can never be the reason she’s terrified.”

_Promise you won’t leave me._  
He blinked in surprise. “What?” 

Her voice had echoed through him, a faraway memory he couldn't trace. A moment of unintentional vulnerability, something even she probably didn't remember, shwoing itself at the worst of times.  
But he remembered his response.

“Listener, I…” His head swiveled towards his own footprints, leading to where he stood now.  
—  
Gwendolyn sat on the bed, staring blankly at the floorboards. Her eyes were red, but her expression remained cold.  
“Look at me.” Serana’s voice was gentle, and her eyes brimmed with concern.  
She did not respond.  
Serana sighed. “Gwen, I know this is awful, but we have to keep moving. Whether or not he’s coming.”  
“He’s never coming back. I saw the look on his face.” Her voice was flat, neutral.  
“You’ll see him again, I know.”  
“I won’t.”  
The vampire sighed again, wrapping a blanket around her sister’s shoulders.  
“I know there’s nothing I can do to make this better. It’ll get better on its own. For now you need to sleep. You know where to find me if you need me.”  
With that, she left the room.

The silence weighed heavily on her, and as soon as the door clicked shut, she let her emotions reappear.  
Her neutrality faded away, and as much as she hated it, the tears streamed down her face. She scratched angrily at the tally marks on her arm, squinting through the blur.  
“I was a fool to be so naive. Put my trust in you and then pushed you away.” She felt her heart twist. “And now you’re gone. I am not worthy of my title and now you know. Now you’re…” She sobbed, “you’re GONE! And it’s my FAULT!” Choking in her own emotions, she angrily ran her nails over the tallies. Preservation gave way to desperation, turning her arm red.  
“You promised you’d never leave me and _it’s my fault you did!_ ” She raised her hand to her arm again, baring her nails, desperate to remove her crime off her skin.

As she brought it down, a hand grabbed her wrist. Her cry stuck in her throat.

"My promise remains unbroken, Listener." 


	27. Trustworthy

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> summary: she's just not having lots of luck is she
> 
> tw: blood

Gwendolyn’s breath caught in her throat, lifting her head up to the blue figure in front of her. She had never seen him look so sad.  
“Lucien?!”  
“I...I am so sorry, Listener.”  
“Oh gods, Lucien.” She stood up quickly, wiping her tears and wrapping around him. “I’m so sorry. I should've explained myself.”  
He returned the gesture. “But I never deserved an explanation. My job is not to doubt you, it’s to protect you. And I was what you needed protection from.” He frowned. “I must ask your forgiveness.” For a moment, his careful composure faltered and his voice cracked. “Please.”  
She laughed sadly, lifting her head up.

“Only if I can have yours.”  
—  
The carriage ride from Morthal to Dawnstar was cold and long, but the travelers didn’t mind. Mostly because they were asleep, but they still didn’t mind.  
Cicero and the elf were both wrapped up, using sacks as pillows and fast asleep. Serana was also asleep, leaning in a corner, head resting on her arm. A map was draped over her knees. Gwendolyn chuckled.  
Lucien was up as always, sitting on the carriage’s floor and leaning against the back of his seat. “Listener?”  
Gwendolyn glanced up across from him, smile evident. “Hmm?”  
“Come here.”  
She raised an eyebrow, but shifted across the floor to his side. He looked up at the night sky, just watching the stars. She didn’t ask any questions, just looked up with him. _Safe. I feel safe._ After a few minutes, he spoke up.

“Listener, do you trust me?”  
She lowered her eyes to him, surprised. “What?”  
He looked at her, trying to mask his fear. “Do you trust me?”  
“Lucien, I trust no one more than you.”  
He searched her eyes. “Are you certain?”  
“What has made you doubt it?” She turned fully towards him.  
“The look in your eyes when I yelled at you,” He averted his gaze to his hands. “You were terrified of me. I broke your trust.”  
She put her hands on the sides of his head, forcing him to look at her. “Lucien, I wasn’t afraid of you. I was afraid of losing you.”  
“What?”  
“I thought you were going to leave me.” She tried to keep her voice level, but it wavered at the last second.  
He gently grabbed her wrists, lowering them and tilting his head. “Listener, I would never. Never.”  
She sheepishly wiped her eyes. _Pathetic emotional child._ “Promise?”  
He moved his hands to the sides of her face like she had done to him. “I promise.”  
“You’ll stay with me?”  
He pressed his forehead to hers, bringing her head closer. “Always.”  
—  
authors note: ouch  
—  
Serana squinted her eyes at the light of the sun. The carriage looked like it was nearing Dawnstar, from the heavy snow and the leafless trees along the road. She shifted her bones, cracking her neck from the uncomfortable position. The map lightly fell off her knees, and she opened her eyes to see her companions. Cicero hadn’t moved, still in fetal position and using a sack as a headrest. The elf was the only one actually using a seat, laying across, looking like he was tucked in with the blue scarf around his shoulders. She saw the other two, and held back a mischievous snicker.  
“If you wake her, I will flay you.” Lucien glared.  
“Hey hey, I’m not a threat.” She leaned down, looking under Gwendolyn’s dark hair and laughing. “Hey Gwen, your ghost is very protective.”  
Gwen giggled, no sleep left in her voice. “I know.”  
Lucien glanced at her, hiding his halfway smile. “How long have you been awake?!”  
She sat up, moving her hair out of her eyes and winking. “Long enough.” She carefully stood up, moving toward the front of the carriage. “We’re almost there.”  
Serana narrowed her eyes at the ghost. “Are you gonna flay me?”  
He rolled his eyes. “No. I suspect she was up long before you. Sneaky woman.”   
Gwendolyn laughed, moving over to Cicero, tapping his nose. “Hey, Cicero. Time to get up.” He slowly opened his eyes, moving groggily out of his blanket. She shifted over to the next sleeping person, repeating the process.   
As the carriage moved, Serana listened to the whistling of the air. It sounded so oddly strong in this city, like it was directed at anyone who didn’t belong. She sat on the floor, watching Gwendolyn stand in the middle and move things around, always preparing for the next move. Serana chuckled. Cicero had dragged himself onto a seat, and had his eyes squinted, adjusting to the light. The elf had his face shoved in a blanket, supposedly doing the same. Lucien simply watched her pack with idle admiration.  
She turned her back to the vampire and the ghost, and the whistling air struck her in between the ribs.  
Serana jumped, breath caught in her chest. The blood had already started to pour from the wound, and Gwendolyn fell to her knees. She looked at the pointed arrow stuck in her abdomen, hands shaking.  
Serana grabbed her shoulders and pulled her back, ducking both of their heads underneath the cover of the carriage. Gwendolyn’s blood soaked the wood, quickly spreading.  
“CICERO! WE HAVE COMPANY!”   
The jester sprung into action, drawing his blade and hopping off the side. He ran towards the town, ducking another arrow.  
Serana tried to stay focused for her friend. Lucien was kneeled over her, hand on the arrow.  
“This’ll hurt, Listener.” He yanked out the arrow, feathers folding through her wound.  
Gwendolyn winced, looking down at the hole. Her face was contorted in pain, and she shakily rose her hands to light, trying to heal herself. Serana moved her head from her lap onto to the floor, shuffling through a sack for any health potion she could find. Lucien quickly pressed his hands on the wound, pulling a piece of cloth and trying to stop the bleeding. Gwendolyn’s hands fell to the floor in a hard thunk, and she was out. He cursed.  
“Blacked out. Hurry.” He pulled another cloth, switching out the blood soaked one.  
Serana quickly turned, holding a massive bottle, swishing around the liquid. Her eyes were wide and fearful, but her hands were steady as she forced the potion down her throat.  
Gwendolyn gasped as she woke. She immediately flicked her eyes to the ghost, worried. “Lucien!”  
He turned his head, preoccupied with trying to stop her from bleeding out. “Listener?”  
She raised her hand, pointing to the elf’s empty seat.   
“Wh-w...” Her companions followed her finger.

“Where’s the kid?”


	28. Kidnapper

The cloth over his face smelled terrible, and all he could remember was reaching back towards the cart, before losing his strength and fading to black.  
When he opened his eyes again, he felt his hands tied behind his back, in what seemed like a ribbon. The room was dark and humid, like a basement, but it spanned much larger than a normal house. He squinted, and recognized a shadow shifting at a table against the wall. It moved frantically, like a cornered animal. He recognized the alchemy table and the glowing liquids in the dark, as possessions of his less than friendly aunt. _She caught me. I’m going to die. Sorry Dragonborn, I can’t help you anymore._ He raised his head, groaning.  
“Ah, the traitor awakens.”  
“Whatever you’re going to do to me, hurry it up.” He scoffed.  
She looked offended. Over head, he heard a door break down, and she jumped, pulling her bow off her back and readying her arrow. The black feathers caught his attention.  
“Did you...You were the one who shot her?”  
The woman turned, firing her readied arrow at his face, narrowly scraping an almost surgical cut on his cheek. “Quiet, traitor.”  
He laughed, wiping the blood on his shoulder. “Oh boy. I hope I get to see this.”  
She turned again, growling. “Speak more and I’ll make sure you don’t, you pathetic worm! Her and her friends won’t even make it through,” She cackled. “I’ve set traps and hired protection.”  
“Mm, okay. You have fun with that.”  
She turned to release another arrow, but steel hit steel in the room above and pained shouts were heard from people he didn’t recognize. She watched the stairs with feverish curiosity.   
The door to the basement flew open, and a bodyguard tumbled down the steps, dead. Cicero cackled, wiping off his blade, and quickly moving out of the way. Surprisingly, Gwendolyn appeared at the top of the steps, holding her bloody wound with one hand, completely stone faced. _What is she doing here?? She’s injured and can’t fight one handed!_  
His aunt shot an arrow and aimed for her heart, but her and the arrow quickly flew back with a simple _fus_ from the Dragonborn. His aunt hit the alchemy table, and stumbled up, mildly dazed. _She doesn’t need her hands, she could just Shout my aunt to death. Hopefully I’m not within firing range._  
Gwendolyn leisurely walked down the steps.  
“Do you know why I’m here?”  
His aunt fired another arrow, but Gwendolyn brought it down the same way, walking closer.  
“Do you?”  
She stopped at the table, with his aunt cowering underneath it. The elder spoke with disgust and venom.  
“I know you’ve come to hunt my family. You’ll kill every last one of us for vengeance, but no, I do not know why.” She spat.  
“Your ancestor. During the Oblivion Crisis. Do you know who he was?  
The old woman cackled. “Ah, I see. You are of the Dark Brotherhood, no? You seek vengeance for your dead leader.” She inched further back. “Even if you kill everyone with his blood, it won’t bring him back. He is nothing but dust and bones now. You’ll never see him again.”  
Gwendolyn lightly laughed. “You are a fool. I do not kill blindly.”  
From the room above, she heard him enter, shouting “Listener?”.  
Gwendolyn bent down on her knees, looking into the cowering woman’s eyes.  
“Yes, Lucien?”  
The woman’s eyes flew open, filled with fear.  
—  
The woman sat in the chair, tied up like she had done to the kid. Her head was lowered, platinum blonde hair covering her eyes.  
Gwendolyn stood in front of her. “Lucien, please take him back to the carriage. Make sure he’s okay.”  
Lucien flicked his eyes over to her, specifically at the hole in her abdomen. “Listener, your-“  
“Trust me, Lucien.”  
He hesitated, before reluctantly nodding and leading the kid out. The elf followed, absentmindedly rubbed his wrists, raw from the ribbon.

As they climbed the stairs and out of sight, the elf raised an eyebrow.  
“Wait, you’re actually taking me to the carriage?”  
The ghost turned. “Yes?”  
“Aren’t you gonna go back for her?”  
“...”  
“Dude, I know where the carriage is. Go back for her. Make sure my aunt doesn’t murder the Dragonborn.”  
“She said she doesn’t want me in there. And she doesn’t need my protection.”  
The elf laughed. “I’m pretty sure she always wants you with her, if you haven’t noticed. And besides, she just got shot. She needs backup.”  
Lucien turned back to the door. “She would see me.”  
“Are you serious? You know you can just turn invisible, right?”  
Lucien stared at the doorknob, hesitating. _I trust you, Listener. I don’t trust her._  
He swung it open and turned to the kid. “Go.” He disappeared. “You said you know where it is.”  
—  
Gwendolyn stood in front of the chair, quietly observing.  
The captive grinned. “When you first said you sought vengeance for him, I wondered why he would matter to you. You’re too young to even have met him. I thought ‘maybe he’s YOUR ancestor’, but no. I see now.” She tilted her head to look at her. “I see why.”  
Gwendolyn’s expression remained indifferent. “Why do you think I do this? Why hunt a family for a ghost?”  
“This isn’t about your Brotherhood. This is about him.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “Elaborate.”  
“I saw him look at you. I’m not stupid.”  
Gwendolyn turned on her heel, facing away from the chair. _What does that mean?_ “You say you aren’t, yet here you are. Tied up, the captive of a woman bleeding out.”  
“You avoid the subject..” The woman laughed. “Ooooh, I see. The feeling is mutual, am I wrong?”  
Gwendolyn looked over her shoulder. “Regardless, why would I tell you?”  
The prisoner shrugged. “Your silence tells your truth already.”  
Gwendolyn turned, fully facing her captive. “The reason I hunt your family isn’t for me. It’s not for my revenge, what your ancestor did wasn’t to me.” She pulled up her sleeve. “However, if I had to choose your life or his, even his versus many, which do you think I would choose?”  
Her eyes widened, looking at the ominous black tally marks. “What are those?” She shuddered. “Are those...lives?!”  
Gwendolyn chuckled. “You know I am an assassin. Why does this shock you?”  
Her captive scraped her feet along the floor, pushing away. “You’ve...done this...before?”  
“Aah, I see. You thought I was young, naive. You thought ultimately I would spare your life, too much of a child to take it.”  
The woman pushed her feet further away, scooting the chair across the room.  
Gwendolyn laughed, nonchalantly following each scrape.  
“Do you know how he died?”  
The woman shoved further, heaving frantic breaths. Eventually she hit the wall, and spun her head around to face her killer.  
“At the hands of a traitor.” She knelt, allowing full eye contact to the cornered captive. “Sound familiar?”  
—  
Lucien stood on the 3rd step down on the flight, daring not to move. If the wood creaked underneath him, Gwendolyn would surely know it was him. Just being in the room hiding from her set an unfamiliar kind of guilt on him. He stood, fighting with himself. _She doesn’t need me in here. I should just wait outside._  
“...the feeling is mutual, am I wrong?”  
Lucien stopped, hand on the doorknob, just in time to glance at her. Her face was turned towards him unknowingly, and he saw the look she had given the wall. Away from the eyes of her captive, she looked like she’d been caught red-handed, but her indifferent expression returned right as she looked over.  
He shook his head of his thoughts running wild to figure out what that meant. _Not really the time, ghost. Focus._  
Quietly opening the door, he shifted out and closed it behind him. The wall partly covered the stairs; he only hoped she didn’t notice the light moving on the floor. When the door finally shut, and he didn’t hear an angry “LUCIEN!!”, he exhaled.  
He moved out of the empty house, around the bodies of the guards, and out the front door. The carriage had stopped right in front of it, and the rest of the team sat waiting.   
He got on the carriage, moving to Serana and looking over her shoulder.  
“Can you-“ She jumped and swung her fist behind her, before realizing.  
“LUCIEN! DON’T SNEAK UP ON ME!” He backed up quickly, realizing he was still invisible.  
“Oh, sorry.” He reappeared.  
She exhaled, hand over her chest. “I almost full-on punched you, ghost. Why were you invisible anyways?”  
He averted his eyes, guilty.  
“You went back for her.”  
He looked down. “I said I trusted her and then I went back.”  
She gave a sideways smile. “That doesn’t mean you don’t trust her, dude.” She chuckled. “It just means you want her safe. It’s fine.”  
He hummed thoughtfully. “That does make me feel better.” He pointed towards a sack underneath all the rest. “Can you hand me that?”  
She looked quizzically at the bag she hadn’t seen. “What is that?”  
“I’ve been through too many dire situations to not know how to prepare.”  
She slightly undid the cord. “Did you….pack a first aid kit?? Oh by the gods, Lucien. How does she not know you love her?”  
He quickly glared daggers at her, looking at the others in the carriage. Cicero and the elf just continued their activities, unbothered. The elf looked up when Lucien turned.  
“Am I supposed to be surprised?”  
“You...know?”  
“You don’t have to tell people for them to notice, dude. Forgive me, it’s a little obvious.”  
His face turned dark blue. “What?”  
Serana laughed. “You are not subtle.”  
He flipped between them. “I’m…..what?”  
“You’re oblivious is what you are.” She picked up the sack. “Here.”  
He took it, hood mostly covering his face. “Nothing will come from it anyways.”  
She rolled her eyes. “Maybe if you told her, you would realize that she isn’t subtle either.”  
He sat down and looked at his hands holding the bag. “I am not doing that.”  
Gwendolyn came out of the house, hands bloody. She grinned like a child, wiping her hands on her sides. “Lucien!”  
His head went up, turning quickly to her.  
Serana laughed under her breath. “Not suuubtle.”


	29. Boogeyman

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> tw: fighting, blood, death
> 
> Summary: Somebody's gonna diiiiiiiiie

Windhelm was the next city on the list.  
It wasn’t as long a ride from Dawnstar to Windhelm as it was from Falkreath to Dawnstar, luckily, but the ride still bored them. The travelers were all still awake and alert, mildly put on edge from their experience with the archer. The afternoon had settled in, the sky a deepening blue and the air less frigid than usual.  
Gwendolyn had one hand covered in golden light, the magic wrapping around her abdomen and sealing up the hole.  
“Another scar, another story.” She sighed. “Hey kiddo, your uncle doesn’t happen to be an archer, is he? Or your cousins?”  
The elf shook his head. “No. My uncle is a deadbeat drunk and my cousins are snooty pickpockets. None of them really know how to fight.”  
Gwen laughed. “I knew a deadbeat drunk once.”  
He raised an eyebrow. “Knew? Did something happen?”  
Lucien didn’t look up from his work. “He transitioned from a deadbeat to dead.” He suddenly looked up. “Sorry, Listener.”  
Serana scoffed. “He had it coming.”  
“Oh yeah, he did.” Gwendolyn said. “Don’t apologize, Lucien. He was a threat and you eliminated him. You do your job well.”  
Lucien chuckled. “I appreciate your praise, Listener.”  
She lightly smiled, and turned back to the kid. “So. Everyone fights back. How do you think they will?”  
He thought about it for a second. “Well, the only way I’ve seen my uncle fight when threatened is...throw glass bottles. He might try to cut you with a broken one. My cousins are, as I said, pickpockets. They’re good with sleight of hand. They might try to give you a cut with a poisoned dagger. They might also try to just escape while you’re not looking.”  
She nodded, listening intently. “Alright. Good.” She looked up the sun. “If it’s about 3pm right now, we’ll arrive at 8pm. Do you know what they’d be doing at that time?”  
He shrugged. “It’s dinnertime. Probably dinner.”  
“All in one house?”  
He nodded. “The house has multiple doors. One into the kitchen, one from the back, and the front door. Not many windows. The kitchen leads into the dining room.”  
She nodded again. “Cicero. You’re on front door. Be ready to cut anyone trying to pass through, okay?”  
Cicero looked up, and smiled. “Oh yes, Listener, Cicero can do that. Anyone?”  
“Anyone means the targets, Cicero.”  
“Oh, of course, Listener.” He grinned again. “Cicero understands.”  
She turned to Serana. “You’re on back. Impale anyone who tries to leave. Same rules as Cicero. Anyone just means the targets.” Gwen playfully smiled. “Don’t impale me.”  
Serana laughed. “Didn’t plan on it, sis. I’ve got it covered.”  
Gwendolyn then turned to the elf. “Can you fight? Especially these people?”  
He rolled his eyes. “That was my childhood. I’d be disappointed if you DIDN’T let me.”  
She chuckled. “Alright. You’re on the kitchen door. They’ll probably go for you first if they try to flee, so be ready.”  
He nodded. “Got it. I’ll be ready.”  
Her head tilted in curiosity. “How do you fight? I haven’t seen you in action yet.”  
He brought up his palms, and curled flames around his fingers. “Arsonist,” He laughed. “At your service.”  
“Good to know.” Her playful smile looked less serious than her words. She turned over to Lucien. “You’re with me.” Out of her eyesight, Serana winked at the ghost, mouthing “not subtle.” He shot a glare at her.  
Gwendolyn continued, oblivious. “While I’m in the dining room, you’ll be invisible, watching them. Make sure they don’t pull any hand tricks.”  
Lucien nodded. “No poison daggers or glass bottles. Got it, Listener.” He smiled.  
Gwendolyn sighed, rubbing her wound. “Alright. Let’s do this.” She surveyed the sacks tiredly. “Do we have any bandages left?”  
\--  
The team approached the stone house. It rose high into the sky, slightly elevated past its peers. Snow was in between the cracks and settled on the windows and stairs. While the evening sun melted past the city walls, the windows in the house were dark and silent.  
No lights were on inside. At all.  
The elf sighed. “Well, I think they’re expecting us.”  
Gwendolyn narrowed her eyes at the door and brandished her knife. “Well, let’s not disappoint them.” She turned back to her companions. “You guys know what to do. Go in your door, and keep your eyes open. Don’t make a sound. They know we’re coming. They don’t know we’ve arrived.” She moved towards the door, before glancing over her shoulder. “And don’t kill them. Either capture them or hurt them just enough to not fight back. I have to be the one to end them.”  
Her companions nodded, and scattered around the house.  
The three found their doors, and Lucien put his hand on her shoulder, before disappearing. She nodded to nothing, and let Cicero open the front door. The jester slowly walked in, surveying the dark room, before nodding an ok to her. First room, cleared.  
Gwendolyn entered the first room under the cover of the shadows. The house was eerily quiet, nothing out or moving. Lucien’s hand left her shoulder.   
She moved towards the next room, crouching behind the cover of a cabinet. From the open doorway, it looked like a pantry. Lots of flour sacks and barrels lined the room, and shelves made dark lines on the wall. Shifting into view, she waited a moment. No attack ambushed her, so she moved on. Her feet were silent, moving along the wall and close to the barrels. She took her dagger, and slid it in between the grooves of the wood planks. She withdrew it, seeing no blood was on the blade. No one hiding in there. Repeating this process with the next 3 barrels, one caught her attention. She withdrew the blade, red blood dripping off, but still no attack rose out of the barrel. She lightly lifted the lid, looking in. _It’s just meat. Who stores meat like that?_  
Before entering the next room, she saw Serana’s glowing eyes. The outline of her head and shoulders followed while her eyes adjusted. She was low to the ground like Gwendolyn, and made eye contact when she noticed.  
Gwendolyn tilted her head. _Find anything?_  
Serana closed her eyes and shook her head. _Nothing._  
The room they were in was the kitchen, but the elf was not there. The fire was out and the pot cold. The doorway on the other side of the room was shrouded in darkness. It was hard to tell if anything was in there, and nearly impossible to tell what it was. She guessed it was most likely the dining room. As much as it made her nervous to try and find enemies in the pitch black, the dining room gave access the rest of the house.   
She felt a hand squeeze her shoulder, then lightly leave. _You can do this, Listener. I’m right behind you._  
Looking across into the other doorway, she met Serana’s eyes again. Serana winked. _Let’s do this, girl._  
Gwendolyn grinned, moving into the black doorway. While her eyes adjusted again, she recognized the legs of the table and chairs. It WAS the dining room. There was nothing to hide behind, but another large door on the other side of the table waited for her. Underneath it, light peeked through, flickering. A torch. The figures of Cicero and the elf were pressed against opposite sides of the door, both waiting for her orders.  
 _This could be a trap. This is most likely a trap. What better way to survive it than to trigger it first?_ Gwendolyn slid towards the door, gently grabbing the left door handle. Serana copied her movements, hand on the right. Cicero stood behind Serana, blade ready. They looked at each other, and swung open the doors as fast as they could. Like she thought, as soon as the door flung open, the torch flew through the air and landed on the wooden dining table. It did nothing but roll off and fizzle out on the stone floor. Gwendolyn waited a second. No other attacks came, and they were now stuck in the dark. Pathetic.  
She slid into the doorway, invisible in the cover of shadows.  
They were visible now, huddled and pressed against the wall. Their figures stood out against the shoved-aside wardrobes and cabinets, which looked like they were previously in front of the door. Their eyes did not find her, not yet used to the darkness, and she moved until she was directly in front of them. _You hide from me like I’m the boogeyman. Like you’re a child with a nightmare._  
Their breathing was hurried and short, knees tilted towards the person next to them. They didn’t move until she opened her eyes, glowing and yellow.  
“Boo.”  
\--  
Gwen sat on the table, swinging her legs and pushing up her sleeve. Serana stood over her shoulder, holding a torch.  
“How many have you got left?”  
Gwendolyn’s fingers ran over her marked arm. It left a trail of blood, parallel to the tally marks. How fitting.  
“Lucien’s kills apparently do count. I went from 37 to 26, then to 25. Now I’m at 22. Those first few killed from 37 were me and Lucien combined.”  
“And we’ve got one more planned?”  
Gwendolyn exhaled, anxiety lining her stomach. “Yeah. We’re...almost done.”  
Her companion nodded, laying a hand on her shoulder. “That’s a good thing, Gwen. We’re almost done.” Serana left through the door to meet the rest of the followers outside, taking the torch. Gwendolyn sat thoughtfully in the dark.

She slipped off the table and took a bloody hand, leaving a red handprint on the wooden doors.  
“See my vengeance, traitor. Your centuries will not save you.”


	30. Child's Play

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Not a bad rate for a room, if you ask me.
> 
> tw: poison, abuse mention
> 
> author's note: wow! ch 30 already! thanks for stickin around, guys!

The night was cold, and Windhelm was, well, windy. They walked through the dark streets, searching for the light of the inn.  
Gwendolyn sighed. “I guess I’d expected that to be harder. They were afraid of me before I even got there.”  
The elf shrugged. “They weren’t trained. My aunt was a formidable fighter, but they were cheats and thieves. No experience.”  
“I guess it’s a good thing. Less work.” She hummed. “Candlehearth Hall, we’re here.”  
The inn was tall with large stone steps. It looked like it would be a better fort than an inn, but hey, she’d never say no to more protection. The windows had the warm lights of candles spilling out into the dark night.  
“Alright guys, time to take a break.” She approached the door.  
Upon swinging opening the heavy door, she was greeted with the smell of bread, firewood, and something alcoholic. Her team shuffled in behind her, closing the door behind them and shutting out the cold air.  
“Maythorne! You here?” She shouted above the ruckus of the other guests.  
A head popped out of a room on the side, a mix of light brown and grey hairs tied in a bun. Her grey eyes searched the room for the caller, before emerging with a big grin.  
“Now hows you been?! I haven’t seen you since...hmm, lemme see.” She turned Gwendolyn around by the shoulders. “Since your hair was abooooout, here!” She smacked her hand towards Gwen’s upper spine.  
Gwendolyn winced, laughing. “I know, I know. I’m terrible at visiting. But hey, no leaves!”  
The innkeeper smiled wide. “Good job, I see my constant nagging was worth it in the end.” She turned to Gwendolyn’s companions. “When she first stumbled in here, there were leaves all up on her head! Everywhere! Like she’d fought a tree and lost.”  
Gwendolyn blushed, swatting her away. “Don’t embarrass me, Maythorne, jeez!”  
The innkeeper laughed, dusting off her apron. “Alright, alright, dustbunny. I’ll leave you alone for now. What’re you in town for anyways?”  
Gwen shrugged. “Had to do a job, here for a room before heading out to the next one.”  
The innkeeper nodded thoughtfully. She pulled Gwen’s shoulder, whispering into her ear. “I’ll make you a deal.”  
She flicked her eyes to the woman, before giving a slight nod. “Okay?”  
“You see that guy over behind me? Blond, heavy hands?”  
Gwendolyn nodded.  
“Make him have an ‘accident’ and your room is free.” The innkeeper winked.  
Gwen laughed. “Easy. What’d he do to you?”  
“It’s not what he did to me.” Her eyes narrowed. “He’s mean to every kid he sees. They won’t come in here no more. Afraid of him, y’see?”  
“Consider him on my personal list then.”  
The woman beamed. “I knew I could count on you.” She turned to the rest of the party. “Hmm, I’ll get more blankets.”

Gwendolyn turned to her friends, explaining the job.   
“Should be easy-peasy. How do you guys want to do this? We can’t make a scene.”  
They looked between themselves, thinking.  
Serana put her finger on her chin. “The quietest way to do this would be Lucien.”  
Lucien shrugged. “Just say the word, Listener. Another thrall for the void.”  
Gwen nodded, but still looked perplexed. “He’s a kid-hitter. We need it to be symbolic. Proper retribution.”  
They thought for a little longer. The elf popped up, and turned his head to Cicero. “Hey dude, you got any poison on you?”  
Cicero pulled out a vial, dark green colored with an X on it. “Cicero always has poison.” He smiled.  
The elf took it and smiled, pulling a piece of hard candy from his pocket. “Think this’ll work, Dragonborn?”  
She grinned proudly. “Poison candy. Truly a child’s revenge. It’s perfect.”  
Taking the candy and the vial from them, she turned to the occupied table. “Alright guys, sit down and look inconspicuous. Don’t engage unless he pulls a weapon. Got it?”  
They nodded in unison. “Got it.”  
—  
The man sat hunched over his drink. His face was young, yet creased with lines of anger. He had what looked like a permanent scowl, and merely raised an eyebrow when Gwendolyn slid into the seat across from him. Until she opened her mouth, he looked defensive, but every word seemed to release the tension in his shoulders.  
The elf glanced up from his bread. “What’s she doing? I for sure thought he would’ve pulled a blade by now.”  
Serana turned her head slightly over her shoulder, watching the table. She turned back. “She’s enchanting him. She needs his trust for him to accept strange candy from her.” She looked over to the ghost, who intently stared at their table. “You okay, Lucien? Not jealous are you?”  
He rolled his eyes. “No, I’m not jealous.”  
She smiled mischievously. “Why not? He seems to already like her.”  
“Not her type.” He answered, neutral.  
“How do you know?”  
He gestured over to him. “Who does he remind you of?”  
Serana looked over her shoulder, analyzing the man. He looked partially drunk, leaned forward on the table like it held him up. His expression was cocky, and he looked like the last time he’d washed his hair was before the war. Her eyes narrowed.  
“Sero.”  
“Exactly. Not her type.”  
“So why were you so focused on them?”  
“That said, if he tries to grab her, I will force his own hands down his throat.”  
“Ahhh, there we go. That’s the Lucien I know.”  
—  
The man leaned forward while she spoke, grinning.  
Gwendolyn returned the smile politely. “What did you say your name was?”  
He leaned back in his chair, folding his arms. “Mjor. I’m a mercenary. A sellsword, if that’s the word you know best. Best axe-wielder on this side of the mountains.”  
She flicked her eyes to the enormous Nordic axe leaning on the back of his chair.   
“Oh, have you had any fun adventures recently?” _Your axe is clean. Do you just sit here and drink?_  
“No, not a lot of fun people come through Windhelm, unfortunately.”  
She nodded. “I understand. Windhelm isn’t my favorite city to stay, but sometimes there’s not a lot of choice.”  
He raised an eyebrow. “You’re an adventurer?”  
She thought of her recent endeavors, and chuckled. “Of sorts.”  
He leaned forward in his chair again, sly smile across his face.  
“Well, I think my rate would be lowered for a pretty lady like you…”  
He folded his hands on the table, leaning as close as possible to her face.  
She smiled mischievously. “What a sweet compliment! Here, a gift. Something sweet for a sweet man.” She took the candy out of her hand, and he took it.  
“Ah, thank you. This will help for when I am tired of bread. But I am however, not tired of you.”  
 _Eat it now so I can leave._ The tavern was rowdy behind her, and she could tell that the other patrons paid them little to no mind.   
“How flattering. Would you prefer me eat one with you?”  
He shook his head. “No, I think I will save it for when it will not taint my drink.”  
“Huh?”  
“Mead and candy don’t mix well. Different flavors.”  
“Oh,” She laughed. “Right.”  
He leaned forward again, and she put her hands on her lap. _Don’t touch me and eat the candy, you creep._  
“How about I get you another drink, then?” She moved to get up, but he grabbed her arm. She heard a chair scratch somewhere behind her, but was more concerned with removing his hand.  
“Okay, I won’t go. Please release me.” She smiled, hiding her slight fear. _If this goes south I’d rather not be chopped executioner-style with that axe._  
He kept his hold on her arm, tight enough that she knew she couldn’t yank out. “Sit down.”  
She narrowed her eyes, but kept her polite smile. “Let go, and I will consider it.”  
His hand tightened, and he lost his friendliness. He growled, “I said-”  
“Choose your next words very carefully.” Gwen’s head shot up, before smiling at the space behind him.  
His face lost its color, stuttering. “Wha...What was that?”   
She felt his grip loosen in fear, and slowly removed her arm with a smirk. “That, friend, would be my protective ghost.”  
Lucien’s disembodied voice rang out from behind the terrified man. “Listener, are you alright?”  
She nodded. “I’m fine, thank you.” She sat back down. “Now, would you rather eat the candy, or meet my ghost? Your choice.” Her smile grew wicked, losing her honeyed words.  
His eyes widened, raising his hand to examine the candy. “What’ve you done to it?”  
“Choose.”  
Quickly, he raised his hand and put the candy in his mouth. She nodded thoughtfully, and got up from the chair. Lucien slowly became visible, removing his knife from the neck of the man losing consciousness.  
They walked towards the friends’ table, mildly relieved.  
Gwendolyn set her hands on the table, sighing. “Alright. We’re good! Who wants to go to bed?”  
Cicero raised his left hand, using the other arm as a pillow already.  
—  
“Your ghost?”  
“Oh hush.”


	31. All-Nighter

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Inner monologue is not inner. Gwen says a BAD word. Also, Gwen and Serana are 12 years old. 
> 
> Author's note: im gonna get murdered for this! no ragrets

The room was warm, with a half empty bookshelf and an end table. Two twin beds sat at opposing sides, red blankets strewn over. Gwendolyn sat on the floor in front of her vampiric friend, fiddling with the end of her cloth pant leg. Windhelm was viciously cold, but the inn was hot, so the innkeeper had lent her and Serana lighter sleep clothes for the night. They were thankful; the night would go faster if they weren’t burning. Serana’s finger wove through her dark hair, winding the strands into a long braid. The boys were outside the room, Lucien supervising them buying midnight snacks in advance.  
“Sooo.” Serana giggled. Her matching pants danced when she tapped her feet on the floor.  
“Uh oh.”  
“Before I start anything, hand me the ribbon.”  
Gwendolyn obediently handed the blue ribbon up to her friend. Serana tied the braid, finishing off with a bow. “You look very cute.”  
“Aren’t I supposed to be fierce?”  
“Well not ALL the time. Sometimes you can be cute, o mighty Dragonborn.”  
The girls laughed, and Gwen moved her seat up to the bed, excitedly crossing her legs. They looked like children at a sleepover, eager to tell ghost stories. Gwen internally laughed. _Technically, it is a ghost story._  
Serana started. “Okay okay so when you were at the table he-”  
“SHH.” Gwen held up a finger and swiveled her head towards the door. Footsteps came up the stairs and through the hallway, but passed their door and went as quick as they came. She turned back excitedly. “Ok go.”  
“Okay so when you were at the table he was like, STARING at you guys.”  
“What??”  
“Yeah yeah but THEN I asked him if he was jealous!”  
“You did not!” Gwendolyn covered her mouth with her hands, eyes wide. “What’d he say?”  
“He said no!”  
She exhaled, dropping her hands. “Is that all?”  
“But THEN! I asked him if he wasn’t then why was he STARING? And do you know what he said?”  
Gwen’s face was covered with her hands again, and the response was muffled. “Obviously not.”  
“He said if that creep touched you he would shove his HANDS down his THROAT. Gweeeeen!” Serana whisper-shrieked. “That is so cute!!”  
“When he grabbed my arm I heard the chair scratch but I didn’t think it was one of you!!”  
“Oh yeah, Lucien knew before the rest of us and basically shot out of his chair. It was hilarious.”  
Gwen shoved her face in a pillow and groaned. “I was scared when he grabbed me because he could’ve ripped off my arm if he wanted, but you should’ve seen my stupid grin when Lucien spoke! Why am I so bad at being nonchalant??”  
Serana laughed. “You're in looooove~”  
“Shut up!”  
They both sat on the bed, giggling and whispering like schoolchildren. It was a while before they heard a knock on the door, and Cicero’s head peek through.  
His smile grew wide. “Hello Listener! We brought you a surprise!”  
The door fully opened and the ghost and the elf walked through. Once they were in, Cicero moved his hands out from behind his back to reveal what looked like a flower crown. He put it on her head, proudly smiling at his handiwork.  
The elf laughed. “Dragon’s tongue for the Dragonborn. How fitting.”  
Gwendolyn looked up at her head with the braided vines and the orange flowers, grinning and standing off the bed.  
“Thank you Cicero. It’s beautiful.” She curtseyed at the jester, who was obviously very proud of himself.  
Serana fell back on the bed dramatically. “It’s so hot here. Are you guys not literally burning?”  
“It is kind of hot. Do you want to open the window?” Gwen turned.  
“Absolutely. I’m melting.”  
“Not overdramatic at all.” She swung open the window shutters, letting Windhelm’s namesake rush into the room. “There, you dork.”  
Gwen turned to the boys, ushering them fully into the room and closing the door. “You two are going to burn if you keep all of your armor on. Come on, get situated.”  
Lucien stood with a sideways smile, watching Gwendolyn rush around the room like a true mother. She walked up to him and held her laugh, pulling off his hood. “There. You’re situated.” Then she was off to the next.  
In seconds the elf and the jester were on a bed, windows opened, and their food on the table. They were already half-asleep, curled up in blankets on the left bed. Serana was leaned on the window to the right, head on her arm and eyes closed. They were quiet, and Gwen stood in the middle of the room, smiling proudly. She turned her head over her shoulder.  
“I’m guessing you’re not sleeping?”  
He chuckled. “No, I don’t believe so. You are safe.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, no. I’m not sleeping.”  
“What? You need sleep, Listener.”  
She put her hands on her hips. “Unless you’re going to make me, you’re out of luck.”  
Her glare made him chuckle. “Well. I guess I’m out of luck, then. Is there a way to force someone to sleep?”  
“None I would like you to use on me. Usually a paralysis potion or considerable head trauma does it, but then again. Please don’t use those methods on me.”  
He laughed. “I will not. That is the opposite of my job.”  
She dropped her hands and giggled. “Good.”  
Lucien moved to sit in the middle of the left bed, gently shifting Cicero’s head. Gwen moved to the right, pulling the sleeping Serana from her uncomfortable position into a new one. Both of them sat with their backs on the wall, facing each other.  
“So, Listener. How long do you plan on not sleeping?” His volume was loud enough to be heard, but not enough to wake up his companions. It was a delicate balance.  
Gwendolyn shrugged. “Until I get bored of being awake.”  
“Why are you not sleeping?”  
“I don't want to..”  
“What’s the real reason?”  
She flicked her eyes to the bookcase. “Alright, fine. Thinking about Winterhold and what I have to do makes me...nervous. I figured if I wore myself out before the carriage ride, I could sleep during it. Sleeping people can’t be nervous.”  
Lucien tilted his head. “Promise to answer me honestly, Listener?”  
Her heart jumped in her throat, thinking about the possibilities of that question. _Depends on what you want to know._ “Of course, Lucien. I promise.”  
“What in Winterhold has you nervous?”  
She glanced at his concerned expression, before looking back down at the dwindling candlelight on the table. “Well, you know that I’ve been hunting down specific people. You’ve been sweet enough to not ask questions and just follow,” She gave a lopsided smile. “Winterhold is the last one. It’s where...well it’s where you find out everything. Every secret I have hidden, you will know. I will no longer have anything to hide from you, and if it goes how I hope it will, it’ll be a good thing. My nervousness is because of the other possibility.” She shrugged. “It might not go well.”  
“Are you afraid the kill will go wrong, or that I will react badly?”  
She picked at her nails to avoid eye contact. “Can it be both?”  
“Listener, look at me.” She did. “I can’t think of anything you could say that I would react badly to.”  
Her grin grew playful. “Nothing?”  
He watched her expression change, chuckling. “Uh oh. That was not a challenge.”  
“Hmmm, what if I said I was gonna become a bard?” Her mischief was evident in her smirk. “Could you stand my singing every minute of the day?”  
He shrugged. “You are a good singer. It would be...odd...to reveal after a murder, but I am not judging.”  
“Aww, you think I’m a good singer?” She put her hands over her heart. “You’re too nice, Lucien.”  
“Only to you, Listener.”  
_If I blow out the candle, can he still see my face? More importantly, can he tell I’m blushing? I hope he can’t, or I won’t have anything to admit in Winterhold._  
She left the candle going. “So no matter what I say, you’ll still willingly follow me?”  
“Through the void and back, Listener.”  
She was definitely blushing now. Dropping her eyes to her hands again, she muttered under her breath.  
“Why are you perfect?”  
He tilted his head. “What?”  
“Nothing. Don’t worry about it.”  
They were both silent for a few moments. Lucien watched the candle’s shadows dance across her face. She looked deep in thought, biting her lip and narrowing her eyes at no particular spot in the floor. She did not notice him turn invisible, or hear him get up. She was so far into her own mind that she didn’t notice when he sat next to her.  
After a few moments, she seemed to come out of her mind, to look up quizzically at his empty seat.  
“Lucien?”  
He reappeared, sitting on her right. “Hello, Listener.”  
Her head quickly swiveled towards him, eyes widening. “You snuck up on me!”  
“That I did.” He chuckled. “Did you have something to say?”  
She smiled evilly. “Well, I’m bored. And I have to kill 20 more people before Winterhold.”  
“You _have_ to?”  
“Don’t think about it too hard. Anyways…”  
She flicked her eyes towards the open window. “You wanna kill 15?”  
His wicked smile spread across his face, and he got off the bed. He turned, holding a hand to her. She took it and slid off the bed, matching his grin. He gestured towards the window in a flourish, complete with a bow.  
“Lead, and I will follow, my Listener.”  
_My heart could not be going any faster. Lucien, I love you._  
His head shot up. “You…..WHAT?!”  
_Oh **fuck.**_


	32. Slip of the Tongue

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: IDIOTS.

She opened her mouth, but nothing came out. Her heart was racing, pounding against her ribcage, her face as red as it had ever been. Her hands shook and she almost fell back. _What have I done what have I done what have I done?!!!??_  
He stared at her, stuck in shock. His eyes were wide and glowing like fire, face dark blue. He stood frozen, like he’d been paralyzed. She had never seen him so speechless.  
“Who just shouted in a room of sleeping people??” Serana sat up, rubbing her eyes. Her gaze locked on the frozen two, each with cheeks on fire. Her jaw dropped.  
“Oh my god. Oh my god they confessed. Oh my goodness. Cicero! Cicero wake UP!”  
Gwendolyn tried to say something again, but nothing but a squeak came out. His stare felt like a spotlight, and she was burning underneath it.  
“I…” Gwen stumbled back towards the window. “I was not supposed to say that.”

Serana sat on the bed gripping the sides of the mattress. Her smile was wild, flicking her eyes between each.

Lucien stood frozen. The closer she inched towards the open window, the more he felt the pressure to say something. _SPEAK! Live up to your title and SPEAK, you idiot!_

Gwendolyn sputtered, tripping over her words. “I have to go.”

She hastily turned towards the window, but her wrist was caught. He was speechless, but he wasn't about to let her go.

“Listener I-”

Gwendolyn shakily turned towards him, frantically searching his face. “I shouldn’t have said anything I’m very-”

“ListenerIloveyou.”  
—

Suddenly, she was back in her house, watching her children’s face, eagerly awaiting her answer.  
“Are you in love with Lucien?”

She looked at him now. He was a deep blue, eyes desperate for an answer. His hand around her wrist was only tight enough to get her attention. He had never looked so vulnerable. _Yes. I am. Damn it._

Finally she opened her mouth. “You...do?”  
She turned completely towards him, releasing the tension in her shoulders. His hand dropped.

Serana rolled her eyes. “Obviously.”

He nodded very lightly.  
Gwendolyn exhaled, slowly laughing. Her smile was genuine and full of relief. The air that had been sucked out of her had been replaced, and a new light feeling replaced her.

She held out her hand, and he quizzically took it. Her expression turned to mischief, and she backed up toward the window again. 

“Follow my lead.”


	33. Laughter is the Best Medicine! Most of the time!

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Dooooooorks
> 
> tw: death
> 
> Song: Honey I'm Good, by Andy Grammar. (its a bop highkey recommend)

Serana laughed, watching them effortlessly slide out of the window. Cicero sat up, rubbing his eyes.  
“Where are they going? It’s 3am.”  
She continued chuckling. “If we’re lucky, they’re going to murder. If the city is lucky, they won’t be able to let go of each other long enough.”  
He ran a hand through his red hair, tiredly rubbing his eyes again. “I hope they have fun.” He fell back down.  
“I’m sure they will.” She snickered, laying back next to the open window. “Goodnight, Cicero.”  
“G’ngh Srna.” His response was muffled by his blanket.  
—  
Gwendolyn landed lightly on the ground, eyes and smile glowing in the moonlight. The stone was cold on her feet, and the air was colder. It ran through her lungs like fire, matching the adrenaline in her veins. She turned her head to her companion, matching his wicked grin.  
They unsheathed their daggers in unison.  
“15?”  
“15.”  
The two sprinted towards the marketplace, one hand to the other, and one hand on their weapons. Serana leaned out the window, laughing.  
“Be careful! I’m not in the mood for a jailbreak! If you get caught, I’m not getting you!”  
She laughed again, before retreating into the room. They were already around the corner, too focused on their task to respond.

Gwendolyn pushed up her sleeves, oblivious to the cold wind. It exposed her numerous tally marks, black graves to the damned running up her arm. Her maniacal grin spread when she grabbed the first person she saw, running her blade through the dips of their ribcage. They were just exiting the bar, and dropped their bottle in surprise. She stepped back into the shadows as they fell, sending a low smirk to her companion. Lucien smiled, stepping into the middle of the crowd and shifting into invisibility.  
A passerby shrieked “MURDER!” while another shouted “Check the shadows!”  
Chaos broke out, the crowd all turning to look at the first victim, blood pooling in the stones.  
A hush fell when they saw, and Lucien’s low chuckle reverberated against the walls. Suddenly, 3 people fell, clutching their slashed sides. Their screams brought the crowd back to its senses and they all scattered. Gwendolyn raised her arm, watching the 4 tally marks form on her skin. She looked up with a grin, but it fell when she realized the marketplace was empty. She frowned.  
He reappeared in front of her, smiling. “I’m right here. Don’t worry.”  
Her smile grew back, a mix of mischief and delight.“Good. 9 more, follow my lead.” She winked, and bolted down the street.  
He chuckled to himself, before running after her.  
Their rapid footsteps were unnerving to bystanders, but their laughter was an omen of death for anyone in their path. _Who knew happiness could be so deadly? Other than two sappy assassins, I guess._  
Gwendolyn skidded past a door, turning to look for her ghost. What she saw was a terrified shopkeeper coming out, aiming a crossbow at her. Her breath caught in her throat, but a glowing blue dagger revealed itself in the middle of his shirt. His eyes widened before he collapsed. Lucien shrugged at her from behind the corpse.  
“Shooting my Listener is not allowed.”  
She giggled, before folding her arms in front of her. “Is stabbing, then?” Her laughter trailed after her as she continued her sprint down the dark street. He rolled his eyes, failing at hiding his smile and following after her.  
\--  
(No music)  
15 new marks were collected on her arm before the sun had the chance to show its face. The duo walked slowly to the inn again, wiping the blood off their blades.  
“Can we sit in the porch? I don't wanna go back in yet.”  
Lucien nodded, sheathing his blade. “You can't avoid sleeping forever, Listener.”  
“Just for a little bit, then I will sleep.”  
He seemed satisfied. “Alright.”  
They sat on the steps, Gwendolyn wrapping around his arm. She looked up at the moon, lightly smiling.  
“Lucien?”  
“Hmm?”  
“What color are your eyes?”  
“Blue, I think. Kind of obvious.”  
She laughed, lightly smacking his arm. “Very funny. What color WERE your eyes?”  
He hesitated.  
“Do you know?”  
She felt his arm shift lightly. He was shrugging. “It’s...been a while.”  
 _How about I tell you when I figure it out?_  
She covered her eyes with her hand. “What color are MY eyes?”  
“Easy. Yellow.”  
“That was fast.”  
He chuckled. “Listener, your eyes glow. They're hard to miss.”  
A moment of silence passed.  
She dragged her hand down her face. “Whoops.”  
“Did you...forget?” She could hear the amusement rise in his voice.  
Her response was jumbled underneath her hand.  
“What was that?”  
“I said MAYBE!”  
He wholeheartedly laughed this time, moving his arm to hug her. “I will never tire of you, Listener.”  
She smiled. “Well I hope not. Quoting a certain someone I know, you couldn't get rid of me if you wanted to.”  
The irritated voice above them came through the window. “Guys, get in here and go to sleep! It’s freezing!” The window slammed shut.  
Lucien’s eyes widened down at her. “Are you cold??”  
She grimaced, bare-footed in her pajamas.  
“Yeah…”


	34. Dawn

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: If the morning person won't get up, it's too early.
> 
> Song: Ultralife, by Oh Wonder (big love in my heart for this band but dont feel obligated)

The morning had come, and dawn’s light was shining through the cracks on the window. The first to wake up was the elf, slowly opening his eyes. Serana was still curled near the window, despite it being shut. Cicero was to his left, wrapped up in his blanket scarf and hat over his eyes. Neither of them were awake. The room’s temperature had at least normalized, and it wasn’t incredibly hot inside and incredibly cold outside. He moved his blonde hair out of his eyes, earning the attention of the other awake person.  
“Good morning.” Lucien hummed.  
He sat up, propping himself against the wall. “Morning. I see you’re a captive.”  
The ghost looked to Gwen, who was asleep in his lap. She was turned away from him, and had her blanket wrapped tight in her hands. He realized his hand was idly toying with her braid. He chuckled. “I suppose I am. Are you hungry?”  
“Huh?”  
“It’s morning, do you want food?”  
The elf tilted his head. “What?”  
Lucien shrugged, lightly smiling. “I can’t exactly get it for you,” He gestured to Gwendolyn. “But I can tell you where it is, if you want breakfast.”  
“You’re being awfully friendly. What’d I miss? Did something happen?”  
Lucien’s smile fell, and he flicked his eyes away from the kid, looking for an answer.  
“Something happened.”  
Lucien sighed, and looked down to Gwen.  
The kid’s eyebrows raised. “Did you…?”  
He nodded. “I told her.”  
“And then?”  
“We went out to kill people.”  
The elf dragged his hand over his face. “Not what I meant. What did she say??”  
“Oh, uh…”  
He laughed. “I think I know what she said, I’ll leave you be.” The kid’s grin grew, pointing to the sleeping woman.  
Lucien lightly shook her shoulder, leaning over. “Listeneeeeer.”  
She groaned in response, pulling the blanket over her head. He laughed.  
“Listener, what time do you want to leave?”  
From under the blanket, she sounded irritated. “Not yet.”  
“Very specific, Listener.”  
He could hear her giggling from under the blanket, and he smiled.  
Serana sat up, running her hand through her hair. “G’mornin guys.” She tiredly slid off the bed, yanking her cloak out of the end table drawer. “Gwen not up?”  
Lucien shook his head. She moved and got really close to where she estimated Gwendolyn’s ear was.  
“If you don’t get up, I’ll tell him what you said at the lake.”  
The blanket was thrown off, and Gwendolyn was standing, posture straight and death glare focused. Serana laughed.   
“You wouldn’t dare.”  
“Not anymore!” Serana giggled. “You're up.”  
The intensity of the eye roll Gwen gave was amusing enough to make her friend laugh, and back up with her hands up. “I’m not a threat. Don’t send Lucien on me.”  
Her shoulders relaxed, and she turned to Lucien, lending him a hand off the bed. “I guess it is time to get going. Do you guys mind getting packed up? I want to say goodbye to Maythorne.”  
They shook their heads. “You’re fine girl, go ahead and get going.”  
Gwendolyn nodded, starting out the door, before turning back into the room.  
“Did you forget something, Listener?”  
The corners of her mouth turned up. She walked over to the bed, tapping the red blanket mound. She whispered to it, lightly patting it. “Ciiiiicero.”  
“MmmmmmMMMm”  
“Cicero. Get up, sweetie.”  
“Mmmmm”  
Lucien laughed. “He reminds me of someone.”  
She playfully glared over her shoulder, then turned back. “If you get up and ready before I get back, I’ll buy you a sweet roll.”  
Slowly, Cicero’s head emerged from the blanket. “Listener, do you promise?”  
Gwendolyn raised her pinkie. “I promise.”  
He smiled, sealing the deal and hopping out of the blanket. “I will get ready so fast, Listener! You won’t even see me! Whoosh!”  
She laughed, handing him a comb. “Alright, I’ll be back soon.”

Lucien watched her go. “Are you sure you don’t need backup?”  
She turned over her shoulder, smirking sarcastically. “Lucien.”  
“Yes?”  
“I’ll be down the hallway.”  
“Oh.”


	35. Good Decisions

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Gwen gets emotional!
> 
> Song: Without You, by Oh Wonder

The woman was already up and writing swiftly at her desk when Gwendolyn knocked.  
“Maythorne?”  
Her hair flew around when she swiveled her head. “Hey, kiddo. You headed out?”  
She nodded, sadly smiling.  
“Don’t look at me like that. You’re gonna see me again.”  
“You know what I am. You know it’s not you I’m worried about.” Gwendolyn sighed. She sat on chair next to the desk. Maythorne turned to her, dropping her pen and pushing away the inkwell.  
“Talk to me, girl.”  
“I'm going to a place I can’t come back from. Figuratively.”  
“As long as you don’t mean jail.”  
She chuckled. “No, I’m not going to jail.”  
“Yet.”  
“Ouuuuch.”  
They laughed, releasing the tension in Gwendolyn’s shoulders.  
“No, I mean I made a decision a long time ago, and it’s about to come to the end. I can’t guarantee I won’t regret it, or that I’ll come out of it alive.”  
“Is it a good decision? Does it make you happy?”  
She flicked her eyes to the side. “It makes me immeasurably happy, but I don’t know if it was the right choice.”  
Maythorne thoughtfully nodded. “Why not?”  
“Because it’s not…” Gwen bit her lip. “It’s not about me.”  
She nodded, raising an eyebrow. “As long as it’s not a life or death situation, it’ll be alright.”  
Gwendolyn looked down, hesitating.  
“What about death to life?”  
Maythorne covered her eyes, but quickly looked directly at Gwen. “You had a ghost with you.”  
Gwen put her face in her hands.  
“How did you...?” She sighed. “You know what, that’s none of my business. I don’t want to know. But that sounds like the opposite of an issue.”  
“What if he doesn’t want to be alive?”  
She shrugged. “There’s an easy solution to that.”  
“Morbid woman.”  
“You asked!!” Maythorne chuckled. “Anyways, why wouldn’t he be happy? I heard him grumbling about it just last night. Something about not feeling the cold. He was with you, even! In fact, this is the first time I haven’t seen you two attached at the hip.”  
“Huh? I was exhausted, what did he say?” She dragged her hand across her face, a mix of worry and dread.  
“I dunno, something about wishing he knew it was cold.”

Gwendolyn’s eyebrows raised when she realized. She laughed, voice suddenly breaking. Her hand went to wipe her eyes, but she was still smiling.  
“I’ve been a lot of places, met a lot of people. I think now…”  
 _It’s all led up to this._

“Now it’s time to go to Winterhold and thank my ghost.”

Maythorne squeezed her hand lovingly. “Don’t forget to write, dustbunny.”


	36. Preparation

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Lucien? Emotions? Absolutely

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Hint: the closer Gwen gets to 100, the less ethereal and more solid Lucien gets.

When Gwendolyn left Maythorne’s room, she was met with Lucien standing outside the room door, head in a book. He was leaning against the wall, a little ways away from the door. Her room’s door was open, and as far as she could tell, all of the bags had been moved out. He didn’t notice her approach until she spoke.  
“Lucien?”  
He looked up, shutting his book. “Hmm? Are you ready?”  
“Is everything ready to go?”  
He nodded, pushing himself off the wall.  
“Why are you out here then?”  
“What do you mean? I was waiting for you.”  
She smiled slightly. “Thank you, Lucien.”  
He returned the smile, pulling up his hood. “Of course, Listener. Are you ready?”  
It was a simple question, but he made eye contact with her long enough to convey what he meant. It wasn’t an _are you ready to go?_ It was an _are you okay?_ An _are you ready, for this?_  
She thought about it, eyebrows creasing. _Am I?_ She looked at him, the slightest hint of worry on her face. _Am I ready for this? This is it. This is what it’s all led up to._  
She looked this time at his expression. He had his hand in her shoulder, bending slightly to her eye level. He was searching her face for an answer.  
 _It’s all led up to you._  
The worry faded, and her smile grew back. His concerned expression left him. Suddenly, he bent down to hug her. She stood on her toes and returned it, squealing when her feet swiftly left the ground.  
“Lucien!!! Put me down!!” She looked down at him, giggling.  
“Is that an order, Listener?” His expression looked challenging.  
She continued laughing. “Hmmm.”  
“I take your silence as a NO!” His grin spread, shifting her and turning down the hallway. He sprinted down the hallway and the stairs, beelining through the inn’s main hall towards the door.  
Her eyes were wide but her smile was wider, clinging to his sleeve for safety.   
“Put me down, Lucien!! If Serana sees I’ll never live it down!” He stood outside the door, peeking through the window towards the carriage. The 3 others paid no mind to them, packing up the carriage.  
He gently let her down. “Alright, alright. I've had my fun.”  
She tried to wipe the childish grin off her face. “Why did you pick me up??”  
He shrugged. “Out of all the times I’ve wanted to do that, only once have I been able to.”  
“And exactly how many times have you wanted to pick me up and run off??”  
“All the time.”  
“Lucien.”  
“I swore to be honest, Listener.”  
Gwendolyn put her face in her hands, feeling the heat on her palms. “Let’s go, dork.”  
He laughed evilly, following her out the door.  
\--  
Cicero turned as soon as she exited the door.   
“Listener, Cicero has a question!”  
“Alright, shoot.”  
“Is the ride to Winterhold long?”  
She thought about it, shaking her head. “No, not really. It is going to be much colder, though.”  
Serana glanced up. “Do we have the supplies for this? You know how you do in cold.”  
Gwendolyn tapped her fingers on the wood of the carriage. “We might need more firewood. And maybe some thicker clothes. Cicero, come here.”  
The jester obediently moved towards her. She felt the fabric of his sleeve between her fingers. “Yeah, that's what I thought. Cicero, you’re going to need different armor.”  
The jester frowned. “Cicero does not want to change.”  
“I know, I know. You can wear your normal clothes underneath, deal?”  
He looked satisfied, and nodded.  
“Serana, keep watch on Shadowmere and Lucien for me. I'm buying these two something that'll prevent them freezing.” Gwendolyn beckoned to the elf. “That means you, kiddo. C'mon.”

Serana nodded, hopping onto the carriage and tossing Lucien an apple.  
“I can't eat this.”  
“For the horse, dummy. Give it to the horse.”


	37. Trailblazer

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: NOT ideal circumstances.
> 
> tw: blood, poison, death

The store was moderately busy, with various nords and elves mulling around, talking to the shopkeeper about their items. It was dark inside, with the wall sconces far apart and windows closed.   
Gwendolyn dragged her thumb across an insulated chestplate. “It’ll keep you warm. Not the greatest defense, but you don’t wear armor anyways.”  
Cicero stood next to her, just patiently listening to whatever she said.  
“Do you care?”  
“Not really, Listener.” He shrugged.  
She chuckled, taking it off the shelf. “Alright, fair enough. Take this up front, and stay there until I get back, okay?”  
He nodded fervently. “Cicero will not move from his spot, Listener.” His expression was serious, until he eventually couldn’t hold it up anymore and cracked a grin. With that, he took the chestplate and walked near the front door.  
Gwen smiled, turning around the store to look for the elf. At the top of the stairs, she managed to catch a glimpse of his hair, swishing around to the upper level.

The top level was similar to the first, besides less people.  
He was in a corner, examining a long cloak, complete with a hood and fur inside.  
“That might keep you TOO warm. Do you want it?” Gwen appeared over his shoulder.  
He jumped, blushing. “No no, it’s way too much, I-I was just looking.”  
She waved her hand, taking it from him. “Nonsense. How much is it?”  
He looked at his feet and fidgeted. “500…”  
“That’s it?”  
“Huh?”   
She laughed, handing it to him. “Go ahead and get it. 500 is nothing.” She shooed him downstairs. “Go on! Cicero has the money. Go!”  
His face was surprised, but he grinned on the way down. His footsteps were quick and she heard his trailing “thaaaaaank yoooou!” as he went.

The upstairs floor was eerily quiet alone, but from behind her, a voice.

“Hello, Dragonborn.”

She turned in time to see their dagger, glowing with laced poison. Her assailant immediately plunged it into her stomach, not giving her a chance to speak. She tried to pull it out and fight back, but her limbs were already weak and numb, failing to even reach the handle. Her vision blurred as her knees collapsed, hearing them one last time.   
“Goodnight, murderer.”  
 _Oh no._  
—

The elf descended down the stairs quickly, clutching his cloak and speeding towards the tallest one in the room.  
“Cicero, Gwendolyn sent me. Do you want me to buy your things for you?”  
He nodded curiously, handing the coin purse and his chestplate over to him. “Where is the Listener?”  
“She’s still upstairs. Might be looking for something herself.”  
“Okay.”  
“Do you want to go get her?”  
Cicero shook his head, pointing to his feet. “Cicero promised not to move from this spot. He can’t break a promise, especially to the Listener!”  
The elf nodded, handing their coins to the merchant. “Alright then. I’ll wait here with you.”  
—  
“Cicero, it’s been almost half an hour. Either Serana or Lucien are gonna come and find us now. Are you sure you don’t want to look for her?”  
“Cicero cannot move until she returns!”  
He sighed. “Alright, do you want me to get her?”  
He frowned, conflicted. “Technically, you made no promise…”  
“Is that a yes?”  
He grumbled, crossing his arms. “Oh alright. Go find the Listener.”  
The elf nodded, handing him the newly bought clothes and the coin purse. Cicero’s frown deepened. “Come back quickly. Cicero does not want the Listener to be in danger.”  
“None of us do, buddy.” He gave a half-smile, going up the stairs.

Cicero stood for a moment, groaning. “Listener, where are you?”

The elf ran down the stairs, heaving his breath. “Cicero, it’s EMPTY.”  
He looked up. “Huh?”  
“She’s not there! And I found this!” His hand went up, holding a small slip of paper. On it, in blood red letters. “ _Murderer._ Cicero, we have to go!”  
Cicero nodded quickly, picking up his feet and running out the door, elf in tow.  
—  
Lucien leaned against the carriage, idly petting Shadowmere. The vampire shifted around the carriage, looking for her backpack among the tower of supplies.  
“Hey ghost.”  
“Hmm?”  
“What time is it?”  
Lucien looked up, watching the horse’s shadow.  
“About 10.”  
“Should they be back by now?”  
He frowned. “I thought I was just being worried. Yeah, they should.”  
Just then, the jester slid around the corner, racing towards the carriage. The elf skidded behind him, waving his arms frantically. Lucien moved forward, catching the jester first.  
“Cicero, what’s wrong?”  
He stuttered, trying to explain everything all at once. The elf caught up, catching his breath and talking instead.  
Lucien let go of his shoulder, moving to the panicked kid. “Where is the Listener?”  
He heaved his breath. “She’s been kidnapped,” He held up the note. “And whoever has got her is not a fan.”  
—  
Gwendolyn opened her eyes in a room she didn’t recognize. _Always a fun time when that happens._  
The first thing she noticed was the rag shoved her mouth. The second thing she noticed was the thick ropes binding her hands. She was tied to a chair, ropes going around her palms. _I can’t use spells like this. So they know my powers, and have already taken precautions. I admire the strategy._  
When her head finally raised, a figure emerged from the shadows.  
“So she awakens~” It was a man, smugly grinning down at her. “Weren’t you supposed to be fearsome, Dragonborn? How does it feel to be so helpless?”  
“Ar you stoupisf?”  
“Oh, are you upset we bound your mouth? We know of your...abilities, murderer.”  
Gwendolyn raised an eyebrow. _We?_  
As if on cue, 2 more figures stepped from the darkness into her vision. _Were you guys rehearsing this?_ The first man spoke again.  
“My associates and I know of your sins, and we will make you pay. You killed them without hesitation, so we will make you feel their pain.”  
She chuckled. _Who is ‘them’?_ “Be mor spicifffc.”  
“Ugh, she’s infuriating like that. Just take the gag out.”  
The leftmost associate moved forward, releasing the gag’s knot and letting it fall into her lap. She spat to the ground, wiping her mouth on her shoulder and looking up.  
He glared at her. “Repeat yourself.”  
“I said,” She leaned forward, grinning. “Be more specific.”  
“You’re disgusting.”  
“What’s disgusting is that rag, do any of you do laundry around here?”  
“We will torture you until we’re satisfied.”  
“Alright, well I have to be somewhere at 5, so make it quick.”  
“Where could you possibly need to be when your life is on the line?  
“Somewhere murder-y~”  
“We will kill you.”  
Her joking banter turned serious in a second, striking her own poison into his eyes.  
“Prove it then.”  
—  
Serana jumped off the carriage hurriedly. “Where’s Gwen?”  
The elf simply pointed to Lucien.  
“Neither of us have seen her! We don’t know!” Her voice rose.  
He shook his head. “No, if what I learned as a scholar is true, if a mage summons anything, the summoned gains the ability to sense their summoner. Gwendolyn summons Lucien, doesn’t she? I think he can find her.”  
They turned to Lucien, who had his eyes squeezed shut in concentration.  
“I can, I just have to focus on her. Nobody move. How long has it been since you’ve seen her?”  
“About 45 minutes.”  
He groaned, shaking his head. “She could be anywhere in the city. She could be anywhere. Nobody move.”  
“Nobody’s moving, Luc. We don't know where to move towards.”  
For a moment they were silent, just watching Lucien grow more infuriated by the second. His palm was pressed up hard against his forehead, concentrating.  
Suddenly, he shot up, head swiveling towards a random street.  
“I can…”  
“Where is she?”  
“I can hear her heartbeat.”  
Serana cracked a smile. “Follow it, then.”  
—  
She spat on the floor again, blood mixed with saliva hitting the floor. Her captor moved around her chair, twirling his blade around, flicking her blood off on the walls.  
“You are so powerless, so easily outsmarted. How have you managed to survive this long?”  
Her head hung low in mock submission.  
“You talk a lot for a torturer. What even is your goal here?”  
“I’ve already told you, revenge.”  
 _For whom?_  
She glanced at his hands when he rounded the corner, still playing with his dagger. The light glinted off the blade and his ring simultaneously. “Are you married?”  
He glared at her, but didn’t respond.  
“Ah, widowed. I see.”  
He marched forward, quickly dragging his knife along her shoulder. “It was you. You took from me something you could never understand.”  
She grimaced. “Huh?”  
“I doubt you care about anything but yourself. Do you love anything?”  
Her thoughts involuntarily flicked to Lucien. _I hope he’s not worried._ She looked out the window at the sun. _Oh, it’s late. He’s definitely worried. Stay safe._  
He rose his voice again. “Your apathy will be your downfall! No one will come for you! No one will mourn you!”  
“Do you think I travel alone?”  
He turned his head to his associate, who coughed. “She had someone summoned with her then. Sir.”  
“Who. was. it?”  
“We, uh. We don’t know, sir. They were...blue.”  
He shook his head and laughed. “You think they’ll come for you? They won’t even make it through the defenses. What is it, an atronach? They’ve probably already dissipated. You are alone.”  
She held back her snicker. “If I am alone, then you are foolish.”  
He stepped forward, holding his blade to her cheek. “I am no fool.”  
“You know who I am. What I am capable of.” She looked into his eyes, smiling. “If I am alone, I am desperate. And you of all people should know what desperation does to people.”  
The blade cut, and she grinned wider, pushing her cheek into the blade. His face turned to mild fear, and he stepped back. He wiped his bloodied blade on his pant leg.  
“Your title gives no physical power. You are still as breakable as you were without it.”  
 _I could shout him down, but the other two would have knives in my neck before I could inhale again. I could try enchanting him, but he would gag me again. I can’t use any spells with my palms bound, or I’d set myself on fire with the heat. I have no guarantee anyone is coming, or has even noticed I’m gone._ She exhaled, controlling it. _What do I do?_ She thought of the tally marks on her arm.  
The man looked over his shoulder in scorn. “Knock her out.”  
 _Sithis, have mercy. I am so close._  
She saw the liquid before they dumped it down. Dark, black, and dangerous. Poison.  
 _Sithis, save me. I was so close._


	38. Brown

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Oh boy.
> 
> tw: death, blood, evidence of torture
> 
> Song: The Way I Do, by Bishop Briggs

Lucien stopped in the middle of the street, focused on one point in the distance no one else could see.  
“It’s slowing.”  
Serana stared at him. “What is?”  
“Her heartbeat.” His voice was wavering. “It’s been picking up ever since I found it, and it’s just dropped.”  
“Is it still there?”  
He slowly nodded, not taking his eyes off the dot in his vision.  
She strided forward, dragging his elbow with her as she went. “Then chase it before you can’t.”  
This, combined with Serana’s icy look, seemed to knock him out of his fear. He nodded, lurching forward and sprinting again. The dot was so close he could see the house, but it dimmed every second. A mix of fury and terror sent his heart into his stomach, and he ran faster.  
 _Sithis have mercy, I am so close._  
—  
Approaching the house, even in the light of the morning, it was dark. The windows were small and the torches themselves seemed to dim.  
They stood outside the door, the 3 awaiting his orders. He only stared at the upper floor, in a glare that set fire to the house itself. His voice was deep with hatred.  
“There will be no mercy. Cicero. The door.”  
Cicero stepped forward, swiftly bringing the door down with his foot.  
The noise seemed to startle the inhabitants, and they heard the sound of steel being unsheathed inside.  
“No mercy.”  
Lucien entered the house with as much anger as he could muster. His blade was already drawn and he killed blindly. Anything within arm's reach was getting a stab wound.  
The chaos rose quickly in the house, and the followers took out the guards of the house as fast as they could. There were many, and the battle was a struggle.

The elf felt his own fear settle in his stomach, and he watched Lucien carefully. _If Gwendolyn dies, Lucien will disappear. If he disappears, we have lost two today._ He felt the thought send shivers up his spine.  
The ghost’s furious shouts echoed throughout the rooms, and soon every guard had been annihilated.

The house was silent, for just a moment.

Fearful partners went up the stairs, looking to Lucien for clues.  
The hallway was empty, with identical doors on the sides and the farthest end.  
“Which room?”

“Lucien, which room?”

He dropped his blade, and stared into the void. His shoulders rose and fell, the slightest hint of a shake evident in his exhale.

Suddenly, he kicked down the nearest door and screamed.

They stood in shock, as he came out of that room, baring his teeth and slamming into the next door. It fell with a loud thunk. His furious shouts could be heard in each room as he came out, murderous to the next door in his way.

Serana shakily held her hand up to her mouth and felt her eyes water. The elf confusedly looked at her, watching the tears spill and form tracks on her face.  
Her voice shook as she spoke.

“He doesn’t know. He doesn't know which door. Oh gods..."

The elf suddenly looked back at the ghost, realizing his rampage’s motivation.  
“But if she’s...then shouldn’t he be..?” He was wrong. Something was wrong.

Lucien stood at the last door at the end of the hallway, leaning his forehead on the wood. He was silent, hand on the doorknob, but frozen in space.  
They hesitantly followed behind him, laying a hand on his shoulder.

He felt himself stand in someone else’s shoes.  
 _Silencer.  
All those years ago.  
You must’ve been so scared._

He turned the doorknob, releasing the tension in his shoulders and walking in, expression of deep sorrow.  
 _What do I expect to find in here? The body of who I was sworn to protect? Why do I come in? I know there’s nothing in here for me but another heartbreak, and yet it pulls like the void itself. Even in death, I am not safe.  
Sithis, save me.  
I was so close. _

The hands on his shoulders left him as he entered, hesitantly looking up. He mentally steeled himself.

The room was dark, dimly lit, with one occupied chair in the center. Her hands were bound to the armrests, her feet to the legs of the chair. Her head hung low, blood dripping from somewhere underneath her hair.  
Her assailants lay bloodied in front of her, like she was the center of an explosion.

The first thing Serana noticed was her arm.  
She suddenly remembered what seemed like so long ago, Gwendolyn smiling to her, and commenting that not only her kills counted.  
Her arm counted a perfect 100.

Lucien stepped towards her, covered head to toe in the blood of the guards downstairs. She wasn’t sure if he’d noticed, but his fingertips were blue no longer.

Serana whispered to the elf next to her, in awe. She raised her hand to point.

“100.”

Lucien only stood in front of her, looking down like she was her own gravestone.

She looked up at him, blood trailing down her mouth. Her smile spread despite it.

“Hello Lucien.”

His head shot up, looking directly into her eyes. “Listener?!”  
“Someone please untie me.”  
He knelt quickly, slicing off the rope with the slain kidnapper’s blade. Gwendolyn watched his hands in silent admiration, even though he still did not notice. Once she was free, she brought his face in her hands.  
“Lucien?”  
His voice was quiet. “Listener.”  
“Can I see your hands?”  
He brought them up, obediently following orders but never taking his eyes off hers. He was still shocked, and showed it.  
She brought his palms to her cheeks, covering them with her own hands.

“Am I warm, or cold?”

He quizzically looked at his own hands, and responded. “Listener, you know I can't-" His eyes widened. "You’re...warm.”  
She removed her hands, to show that he was no longer blue.  
He slowly took his own hands, and watched as the edge of his sleeve quickly turned black.  
“I’m…”  
She nodded, grinning. “I have no more secrets from you.”  
“This...was you?”  
Serana laughed, relieved. “Her marks. 100 marks.”  
He brought up her arm, staring at the tallies. “The void marks...you...did this...for me?”

She pressed her forehead to his. “Hey Lucien?”  
“Listener?”  
“Your eyes are brown.”


	39. Protector

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Oh, Lucien.
> 
> tw: death, blood, applewatch
> 
> Named in honor of my dear friend, Ponnie.

“100.”  
The echo rang in her ears, but looking for the source was useless. The real world dissipated before her eyes, sending her into an empty void. She felt herself leave her body behind. _Am I dead?_

_If you wish to save him, destroy what took him away._

As if an answer to her burning question, the void faded away.  
She stood in what looked like a farmhouse. It was empty and silent, except the sound of panicked shuffling behind her. She looked over her shoulder.  
“...Lucien?”  
The hooded man did not flinch at her presence. He was too focused on a piece of paper, scribbling like his life depended on it. He cast fearful looks towards the door periodically, before returning to his note. All she could make out was “Dear A..” _Your Silencer. Oh, Lucien._  
The door pounded with several hard knocks, and out of reflex she drew her weapon. A blade she didn’t recognize was already on her hip. Both inhabitants stared at the door.  
“We know you’re in there, _TRAITOR!_ ”  
She frowned deeply, feeling the story play in front of her eyes. She turned to Lucien, still invisible to him. His eyes were wide, hands splayed out in front of him.  
“Please, brothers, sisters, you are mistaken! Just wai-” The door busted open with a kick, and the angry hooded figures stormed in. Lucien stepped back, trying to hide the letter. _Don’t worry Lucien. I won’t let them get to you. Not this time._  
She tried to remember the story he had told her a million times before. _Bellamont. Mathieu Bellamont._  
The hooded members trained their eyes on her in their fury.  
“Which one of you is Bellamont?!” She raised her dagger and pointed at the first member. “ANSWER ME!”  
A man pushed down his hood and raised his blade in defense. “What purpose would it give you to know?”  
 _You._  
She cast a glance over her shoulder. Lucien stood, death grip on his blade. His face was lined with fear and distress. She knew the thought of killing his family deeply hurt him. He stared at her in awe and confusion.  
 _I won’t let them hurt you._  
\--  
She wiped her face of the blood as the void faded back over her vision. The sights, sounds dispersed, leaving her in the black tomb.

_Contract complete, daughter._

She opened her eyes.  
“Hello Lucien.”


	40. Safe-Keeping

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Lucien is a cheese, and can't sleep.
> 
> Song: Lovely, by Khalid/Billie Eilish

It was completely silent.

The carriage rumbled along the road, Winterhold’s lights in the distance, but the sound of the wheels on stone did not reach her ears. The wind whistled, blowing snow into their bones, but its song was nonexistent to her.  
Lucien sat next to her, staring at one spot in the wood on the floor. He seemed deep in his mind, piecing together a puzzle she could not see. He wasn’t moving, almost completely lost to the world. The only way she knew he was still somewhat there was that if she squeezed his hand, he would squeeze in response, though his reaction was a little delayed.  
She broke the silence, watching him come out of his thoughts back to her.  
“You alright?”  
He gave a small nod. “Listener, I’m…”  
“You’re?”  
“I haven’t slept in centuries. I...don’t know if I’m tired or not.”  
She contemplated this for a moment. “Do you remember how to sleep?”  
“I don’t think so.”  
“I think you should try. I don’t want you to collapse from exhaustion anytime soon.”  
“Now?”  
“Nighttime is usually when people sleep.” She leaned against the back of the carriage, and brought her arms out. “Come here.”  
He laid down, following orders. “Can I talk to you?” His eyes studied the stars of the sky, occasionally glancing at Gwendolyn. She shifted her gaze from the landscape to him, playing at a smile.  
“Always.” She winked.  
“Why did you do this?”  
“Do what?”  
“Bring me to life.” This time, he wasn’t looking at the stars. His eyes were trained on her, studying every move.  
“Why wouldn’t I? Everyone wants their loved ones to be happy. I wanted to give mine a second chance.”  
“Am I your…?”  
“Loved one?”  
“Yes?”  
“Lucien, you know the answer to that question.”  
The corners of his mouth turned up. “I have a request, Listener.”  
She raised an eyebrow. “What is it?”  
“Say it. Tell me.”  
“You are my loved one, Lachance.” She pressed their foreheads together for a second, bending into her lap.  
He smiled up at her. “I have another request. Can I see your hand?”  
She nodded, raising an eyebrow, but offering her hand anyways. He very gently wrapped two of his fingers on the inside of her wrist.  
“Now I can sleep.”  
“Huh?”  
“After having your heartbeat be in the back of my mind for a while now, not having it anymore is...off putting. I like to know it’s there.”  
“You could hear my heartbeat?”  
“I did, not anymore.”  
“When did you figure this out?”  
“When the kid asked if I could find you.”  
“But...that would’ve stopped once you reached 100...and I wasn’t awake to tell you...how did you know I wasn’t…?”  
His grip slightly tightened on her wrist. “I didn’t.”  
“Oh Lucien, I’m so sorry. I was supposed to be with you when you found out, I never meant to-”  
“Listener. Gwendolyn. Look at me.”  
She paused.  
“You’re here now, and through the impossible, so am I. It’s okay.”  
She leaned against the corner of the carriage, lightly chuckling. He was more relaxed, looking up at the sky again, suddenly smirking.  
“What’s that look for?”  
“Your heart rate picked up.”  
“Yeah, that sometimes happens when you say cute things.”  
He narrowed his eyes, still grinning. “Sooo, if I say that you look very pretty in the moonlight, does that count?”  
She rolled her eyes, knowing that her face was probably an unnatural shade of red at the moment.  
He chuckled. “It does!”  
“If you’re not going to sleep, I’m taking my hand back.”  
“Alright, alright. I’ll be quiet.”  
“For once in your life.”  
“Oh, so we’ve got jokes now?  
“Go to sleep, Lucien.”  
He smiled lightly, quiet for a second.  
“Goodnight, Listener.”  
“Goodnight.”  
“Listener?”  
“Hmm?”  
“I love you too.”  
—  
20 minutes had passed in comfortable silence, before she spoke again. Her smile could be heard in her voice.  
“Oh no.” She laughed.  
Lucien was apparently still awake. “Everything alright?”  
“What am I going to tell Nazir?”


	41. Void Dweller

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Summary: Aftermath.
> 
> tw: death
> 
> Song: Vor i Vaglaskogi by Kaleo  
> (I HIGHLY. HIGHLY recommend the song. The chapter just isn't the same without it.)

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This is quite a while after the events of chapter 40.

“I thought I would find you here.”

 

 

The elf emerged from the treeline.

The world was gentle today. The trees danced with the wind, and the flowers bloomed again. Life was everywhere in sight, green decorating the canopy and the forest around them both. The sun’s light fell through the leaves, spotting the ground with its glow. This corner of the world was safe, nothing to fight, nothing to fear. Nothing could hurt them here.

The gravestone was a stark contrast.

“If you are here to ask me to leave, follow your own advice. Leave me be.”  
The elf shook his head, even knowing Lucien could not see him. He was the only thing that matched the stone, in his dark robes and black hair.

“I’m not here to take you away.”

Lucien did not turn, just sitting on the ground and staring into the engraved letters.

“Then why are you here, Tilgitt?” His voice was not angry. If anything, he just sounded tired.

The elf stepped forward, grass swaying with his footsteps. He set a worn book down, next to all of the others.  
“I figured you finished that one by now.” He gestured to a blue one, separate from the pile.

Lucien looked down at the book, then back at the stone. He traced his finger along the carved ‘G’.  
“Thank you.”

Silence.

“Lucien, you can’t stay here forever.”

A moment of quiet passed, before his gaze fell to his hands and he sighed.  
“Nothing stays anywhere forever, child. To be somewhere forever is to have started there. To have been somewhere forever, one must not begin at all. No, I cannot stay here forever.”  
“Wise words.”  
“Centuries will do that to you.”

It was silent again, except the swaying of the branches in the breeze.

“Are you going to come home soon, or should I bring food out here too?” Tilgitt offered a small smile to the back of his head.

Lucien glanced over his shoulder, giving a slight smile in return. “Are you really offering to walk a bowl of soup out to me?”  
“How did you know it was soup?”  
“Do you know how to cook anything else?”  
“...”  
“And so my point is proven.” Lucien turned back to the stone.

Once again, silence.

Tilgitt kneeled into the grass next to him, folding his robes underneath him. “I think about her everyday.”

“As do most now, I believe.”

“I wish I could go back to tell myself all that time ago, that the person who had my life in her hands, would hand it back to me a million times over. Sometimes even then, I don’t think I would’ve believed. Books do not teach you that sometimes you fear your savior, and love your killer. No scholar has a lesson on hope, or courage, or sacrifice. No professor can teach every shade of grey in a black and white world. And then, if it wasn’t in between the pages of a hardcover, how could it be true?”  
Lucien gave a halfway smile. “Wise words.”  
“Maybe I am young, but the world is not kind to innocence. It is best to lose it than to bind one’s hands with the scraps.”

“She taught you well.”

“She taught us all well.”

The clearing was silent again.

“Do you think she knew it was coming? Did she feel it, I wonder?” Tilgitt leaned forward, tracing the dragon carving lightly.

“I think she knew before any of us did. I think she knew where her path lead when she started on it.”

“I guess the world has to thank her for walking it anyways.”

“Savior of the World is a lonely title, and a lonely path. There is no map for a road you pave yourself.”

He watched Lucien stare at the stone for a few minutes. He looked exhausted, but Tilgitt knew it was useless to try and get him to relent. Lucien would return when he was ready, and only then. For now, the best the elf could do was offer his company.

This time Lucien spoke up.

“I remember her telling me who you were, all those nights ago. Or rather, who you came from. I remember the look in her eyes as she stepped between us, looking like she would lay down her life to save you if I were to attack. Like I would ever be a threat to her. Even then, I think she knew I wouldn’t have, especially not against her orders, but it always stuck with me, the look in her eyes. It wasn’t even fear, just caution. She put her life in danger, and it didn’t look like the danger even occurred to her. All she cared about in that moment was protecting you. And it occurred to me then that I’d seen that look a million times. I’d seen it before because she had done the same for me. For Cicero. For Serana. She’d taken so many arrows meant for us that it was her normal. There was never any hesitation. How fitting then, that she take an arrow meant for the world, just as easily.”

“I remember that day. That’s the same day she gave me my name.” Tilgitt smiled sadly at the stone. “When I asked her what it meant, she told me I would figure it out when it was time. You had just left the room. It seems like she knew where our paths led, too.” He wiped his eyes slowly.

Lucien looked down at his hands. “Do you want to know?”

“Know what?”

“What your name means.”

“Do you think it is time?”

“I believe it always was.”

Tilgitt exhaled heavily, and nodded.

Lucien slowly took a piece of paper out of his pocket, handing it to the elf.

_Tilgitt,  
I hereby name thee ‘Forgiven’._

_Love, Gwendolyn._  
\--

End.

 

Thank you for reading _Void Dweller_

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> Before you kill me, there is a book 2.


End file.
